


Better Than Kindness (for a deeper kind of love)

by All_and_none (August_and_never)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bad Parent John Winchester, Biologically Necessary Submission, Biology Inaccuracies, Butt Plugs, Caretaking, Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Catheters, D/s, Dean Winchester Gets a Hug, Dean Winchester is Bad at Self-Care, Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), Doctor/Patient, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemas, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fictional Medical Conditions, Hardcore caretaking, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Medical Conditions, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Dean, Overprotective Castiel (Supernatural), Power Imbalance, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Recovery, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sounding, Sub Dean, everyone is protective of Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/August_and_never/pseuds/All_and_none
Summary: .Dean has been refusing his specialised treatments. He's a 'high-needs' submissive omega with complex medical and psychological conditions that require a particularly intimate type of care.Sam knows his brother is running out of time. In desperation, he signs Dean's guardianship over to the one person who can make him comply with treatment, the renowned omega specialist, Dr. Castiel Novak.Dr. Novak's uncompromising and intensive caretaking, medical treatment and dynamic therapy is just what Dean needs, even if it's not exactly what he wants. Under his strict new guardian and dedicated medical team, Dean will receive the loving care and attention he deserves, and he will finally be given the chance to heal.***Please note, this fic shamelessly explores 'hardcore caretaking', 'medically necessary 'hurt' while being loved and comforted', 'biologically necessary submission' and 'medical kink'.It is also quite romantic, domestic and oddly sweet. Dean is given love and care, it's just really intense..
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 109
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> Just a friendly reminder that nothing in this fic is meant to represent accurate biology or medical/psychological care of any sort, including Dean's entirely fictional illnesses. This is pure, unadulterated fantasy. 
> 
> Also in this universe, they live in a different psychological, moral and biological reality to us. Please do keep that in mind ;)  
> Some notes on the tags:  
> Everything sexual is consensual in this fic. Just to be safe , I have tagged this 'dubious consent', mostly because Dean is shit at self-care and complying with treatment, so he often he needs Castiel to take control. It's also tagged 'slavery' as 'guardianship' here means they control and are held legally responsible for every aspect of Dean's life, basically they own him. But it's a burden rather than a benefit to them. I will put more specific warnings in the end notes for each chapter.  
> I hope you enjoy coming along on this journey with me and I look forward to hearing what you think! Please do comment!! 
> 
> .

Just before dawn, on a cold stretch of highway outside Michigan, Dean finally surrendered.

For the past five hours he'd been pretending to sleep. Resting this feverish cheek against the cold glass of the window and desperately trying to hide the shaking.

It was a familiar pain. One he'd dealt with for so long that he couldn't really remember a time before it, a time when he hadn't been hurting. But the edges of his vision were starting to fade and it was becoming difficult to raise his head, that was new.

A particularly cruel cramp burned up his spine, sending him gasping, dragging in ragged breaths. Sharp stabbing in his abdomen, like someone had inserted razors between his pelvis and his navel. Every bump of the road, slicing him up inside. It took all his focus just to process it, the pain was everywhere, inescapable

He'd tried to hold it together, to hide it like he'd been trained to do. But when the darkness began to settle in again, and he realised he was likely moments away from another seizure, he knew he was finally out of options. It was the end of the road. And there was only one person he trusted enough to do what needed to be done. 

"We gotta turn around," He whispered to Sam between pain grit teeth, barely able to form the words, "I need to see Dr. Novak,"

Dean held his breath, trying to control the pain, or mask it a least. Sam would ask questions and he needed to sound convincingly fine. He needed him not to freak out. 

"What? Why?" Sam's heart skipped a beat. He knew Dean only ever called Castiel 'Dr. Novak' when he needed help, when something was really, really wrong. When he needed the man to be his doctor and not his lover. 

"It's nothing," Dean stared straight ahead, keeping his breathing regular and trying to smooth the pain lines from around his eyes. Hiding it from Sam as best he could. But the darkness kept inching closer and closer, and then he was going to find out anyway. 

"Just... Take me Cas. I don't want to talk about it," he tried to keep his voice steady, but he could tell he wasn't fooling anyone. He'd be lucky if he remained conscious for the rest of the conversation, let alone long enough to convince Sam to shut up and drive him to the estate. 

Sam pulled the car over to the side of the road, and Dean bit back a groan of frustration. Sam's eyes were full of worry, "What's wrong?"

This conversation had been coming for weeks, the dread building inside him as it got harder to hide it. He knew pain and could deal with it. But this was something else, this was something _shutting down_ inside him. And there was nothing Dean could do about it. 

"I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear?" He didn't mean the words as an attack, but they came out like that anyway, biting and snarling, "Fine! I. Fucked. Up! Everything goddamn hurts. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I throw up every time I even try. I can't shit. I haven't been able to piss properly for weeks and today I...I couldn't go at all. My body is completely fucked." 

Sam looked at him, shocked, "Shit, Dean. Why didn't you tell me it had gotten this bad? You know Castiel warned you, begged you to stay and get treatment." 

Dean didn't reply. There was nothing to say anyway. It was true, Castiel had warned him, all the doctors nhad warned him. Cas had done everything in his power to convince him to stay. But that didn't mean he had listened. 

Sam, looked panicked, then angry. He fixed Dean with a sad, frustrated look, like he wanted to say something, but knew it was pointless. He'd known Dean was hurting, was struggling to even do basic things like driving, but he could never make Dean admit it. Dean never admitted to any of it and Sam had grown up accepting that he never would. That was why he was currently sitting behind the wheel, even if Dean made up some bullshit story about being hung over.

He turned the car around and hit the accelerator harshly, jarring a ragged sob out of Dean. He ignored it, too angry and determined. 

"How bad is it? And don't fucking lie. Not this time," Sam's fingers were white, as they clenched the steering wheel.

Dean could feel himself start to shake, the pre-seizure darkness starting to invade his vision. He was losing the edges of the world, as it grew hazy and dark. Not long now he thought bitterly. 

"Not gonna lie anymore Sammy," he heard himself mumble, almost like it wasn't him speaking, "It's bad....it's really, really bad," 

At least the darkness came gently this time. Between one word and the next he slipped into unconsciousness. No need to fight back against flailing limbs, ragged grunts or humiliating tears. No need to listen to Sam's desperate prayers. 

***

As Sam sped along backroads and down empty streets, his brother's pale unconscious body rested limply in the seat beside him. The seizure had lasted two minutes thirteen seconds and a lifetime. 

Sam was devastated. 

He knew he was going to have to do, but that didn't make it any easier. 

[ _Sam's guilty mind drifted to Castiel Novak, the man who had somehow become so important to both of them. To Sam he was a friend, a mentor and a confidant, but to Dean he was more than that, so much more._

_They'd met Castiel through the hunting community a couple of years ago when they'd helped him clear out a pretty vicious coven of vampires praying on locals in his area. His family had been hunters from way back, so he'd called in a favour from a friend, who'd passed it onto the closest hunters in the area, Sam and Dean._

_Surprisingly, they'd both immediately taken a liking to the man, Dean especially. The calm, almost clinical way he hunted, slotting right alongside them as they worked their way through the nest. His background and good reputation within the hunting community also helped earn their trust._

_But really it was the gentle, focused way he patched them up after the fighting ceased, that won them over. The way made sure to inject the wounds with local anaesthetics before stitching them up, even though they'd told him it wasn't necessary. He wrote out prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers to take on the road just in case they were needed. And as a parting gift, he gave them a fully stocked hospital-grade first-aid kit that he had personally curated, demanding a promise that they would return whenever they needed medical attention._

_And so they had returned, many times now. Sometimes out of necessity, but also socially, dropping in every time they passed through or needed a break. They'd stay a couple of days between hunts or do some research (his library was impressive). They'd sleep, eat and seek his opinion on the next hunt or the last one. It became the place they came back to when the road got too long or the hunts too exhausting. It was nice._

_Sam quickly caught onto the way Castiel and Dean looked at each other, like the sun came out when the other one entered the room. Like storms gathered when they left it. Sam was less than surprised to find Dean one morning sneaking half-naked and a little sheepish from Cas's bedroom. He couldn't remember if it was the second or the third time they'd visited._

_"What?" Dean had demanded, covering up his slight embarrassment at being caught with a theatrical smirk, "He's hot!"_

_"Nothing," Sam sniggered, "Nothing at all,"_

_After that, well, if each time they visited Dean vanished from the guest wing of the frankly gigantic estate more nights than not, Sam wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He was just glad to see that Dean had found someone after so long alone._

_Cas, for his part, always welcomed them warmly, sincere in his greetings. He wasn't a demonstrative man, but he was honest about his affection for them. As they drove up onto his estate, he'd wait by his front door and smile as they pulled into one of the many rows of garages, sheds and stables scattered about his vast lands._

_They noticed, but didn't comment when one of the garages mysteriously became equipped with everything they needed to service and repair the impala, apparently assigned for their personal use. That their assigned rooms were always the same and were soon stocked with their personal brands of toiletries, favourite authors on the bookshelves, favourite music preloaded on the sound systems. It would have been creepy, if it wasn’t exactly how Castiel approached everything else he valued in his life, with obsessive thoroughness and dedication to perfecting every small detail. He was known for it._

_Sam had finally googled him, whistling low under his breath, "Shit, looks like we befriended a celebrity. Cas is famous!"_

_"Yeah, of course! He's a Novak, they're basically royalty." Dean had given his brother a look that said he thought Sam was an idiot. All the Novak's were beyond wealthy._

_But Sam slid his computer around to show Dean the screen, page after page of conference dates, interviews, lectures, articles, all manner of information on the good doctor._

_"He's famous in his own right,"_

_Sam hadn't bothered to look before, no point when reputation in the hunting community mattered much more than anything google could find on the guy. They'd asked around and gotten the same answer everywhere; Cas was solid, a good man, if maybe a little obsessive and perfectionistic. He could be relied upon to stitch you up if you had a hunt in the area but didn't want to be involved much in the hunting lifestyle. That was good enough for them._

_But as Sam read more about him, a plan started to form in his mind._

_He read about how Dr. Novak was a specialist in Omega medicine, quite renowned apparently. That he worked exclusively pro-bono, only seeing the toughest cases, those who had been referred to him due to the complexity of their problems.He wore scent blockers, took suppressants and made sure that a nurse, usually a beta named Benny, was present for all consultations and treatments. Sam knew that he was kind, gentle towards all his patients and perfectly professional._

_He was also an extremely highly rated Dominant. Even as a neutral beta, Sam could tell that Castiel was incredibly powerful, easily the strongest Alpha he had ever met. And Dean had been drawn to him immediately. They were clearly incredibly compatible. It just provided further evidence that Dean needed someone with the ability to dominate him, the strength to follow through and the skills to help him heal. Castiel was everything Dean needed, Sam just had to convince him to take Dean on as his patient as well as his lover._

_But Castiel had been incredibly reluctant. Somewhat due to the fact that they were already sleeping together, but also because he could tell that something was very wrong with Dean. Right from the start he'd seen how Dean struggled, how complex his issues really were and how little he let on about it. Cas didn't want to treat him because he already knew and he worried it would destroy their relationship._

_It took six months of convincing, but in the end they both knew, he'd never really had a choice. Without Castiel's as his doctor, Dean might never consent to any treatments at all. He just didn’t trust anyone else._

_He'd started treating him, but was still unable to make Dean consent to anything more than the barest minimum. And they'd both been growing increasingly desperate. There was an obvious solution, but neither one of them had been willing to discuss it, knowing how scared it made Dean._

_But not anymore! Sam suddenly decided, gripping the steering wheel so tight his fingers turned white. Something had to change, and this was it. He might not want this, but it was clear that Dean needed it._

_Sam was going to give Castiel the power to do what needed to be done._

_He was going to betray Dean, but he resigned himself to the guilt. Telling himself that none of them really had a choice in this. Not him, not Dean and especially not Castiel._

_He would just have to beg for Dean's forgiveness. At least he would be alive to hear it._

_]_

*** 

Dean woke up in agony. 

He hadn't been able to pass any urine for the last three days, and even before then, it had been incredibly difficult to force any liquid out. For weeks he'd had to sit, shaking with the strain and discomfort, waiting and hoping, for only the barest trickle to escape. It was like there just wasn't space inside his urethra for anything to move through. 

But now he was awake again and the pain had him curling over in the passenger seat, sobbing and begging Sam to get him to Castiel. He felt like he was going to rip open and he needed something, anything to just please, anything, just make it stop. He was going to tear apart!

He'd stopped drinking all together two days ago, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but desperately needing to stop the pain the only way he had left. He wasn't thinking clearly, he knew that, but the words just wouldn't come. The shame and frustration locked them behind his teeth. The image of John, as he stared disgusted at his son's test results burnt into his mind, as clear as if he was standing in front of him right now. 

[ _John had been so disappointed, so angry. At least Sam was a beta and a neutral, that was basically agreeable. But Dean, he was an Omega and highly submissive, that was not acceptable._

_When the testing had come back showing that Dean was highly submissive, John had just gone cold, almost cruel. He hadn't spoken to them for weeks, drinking most evenings away in bars while Dean looked after Sam back at the motels. He'd come back stinking of booze and cigarettes, then make his opinions on the matter very clear. Dean had to keep the belt marks and bruises hidden under jackets and long sleeves for weeks, the slight tremor in his left hand didn't fade for six months._

_Then came the first diagnosis; Dimotoro Syndrome._

_He hadn't known what that meant, what it would do to him. But by then it hadn't really mattered anyway, he knew that whatever happened he'd have to deal with it on his own. He had leaned the rules and what was expected of him. John had trained him well._

_The doctors told John that due to Dean's highly submissive nature and vulnerable health, the state would likely be considering options for supporting him into adulthood. John hadn't bothered to tell Dean._ _Not until the judge's ruling arrived in the mail less than two weeks later._

_John had just read it and laughted, "Will you look at that," he'd slapped the ruling down on table in front of Dean, "It's official. Not even the state thinks you're worth anything."_

_He'd downed the last of his bourbon and wandered off to find more, his laugher echoing out into the darkness. Dean had snatched up the paper and read it again and again, desperate for an alternative meaning to the words, an escape. Praying for something, anything other than what was printed on that page. But John was right._

_Some arsehole judge had decided that Dean would never be capable of any level of independence. Without even bothering to request their presence in court, or even notify them of the hearing, he_ _had bound Dean into unconditional lifelong guardianship._

_The judge had ruled that should Dean's primary guardian pass away or become incapacitated, his guardianship would revert to his secondary. Should both be unable to complete their responsibilities, then Dean would automatically become a ward of the state at which time he would be permanently moved to a 'high-care facility'. Dean thought that he would be better off dead._

***

_By the time the symptoms started, John had stopped caring entirely, he'd just shrugged and warned, "Don't you tell Sam. Not ever. He doesn't need your problems hanging over his head. You deal with this yourself,"_

_And Dean had agreed. Sam didn't need his problems. Sam was going to Stanford. He would deal with this himself. And he had, even after John's death, Dean had kept his promise. Keeping Sam in the dark as best he could. ]_

Sam drove wildly, dangerously fast all the way, breaking every speed limit on the way, and yet somehow not getting pulled over. It was only two hours away, but it had felt like an eternity.

Dean had passed out twice more and even now kept himself awake only through sheer determination. He was hazy with dehydration and starvation, each time he woke the world was a little grayer and colder. He knew he was losing touch with reality, losing physical functionality too. His fingers started to curl involuntarily into fists, his legs trembling and cramping. He tried not to cry, but felt the wetness on his cheeks anyway. 

He knew Sam was panicking too, murmured prayers under his breath. 

Every turn in the road like another knife to his gut. Between bouts of unconsciousness, he'd bitten back moans and cursed Sam out, anything to keep himself conscious. 

When they arrived Sam dragged Dean from the car, yelling for Cas and Benny, even as he pulled Dean's hunched figure into the now familiar clinic attached to his house. He'd texted them about Dean's condition, but it didn't stop the distress on their faces or the anger. 

***

Cas took one look at Dean and sighed, clearly expecting this.

"Benny, get a catheter kit please, and prepare an IV," he told his nurse. Strangely calm, like he was holding himself still, even his breathing was performed in a regular, controlled manner. 

Benny nodded, grimly assessing the desperation of the situation before he ran inside to set up the requested equipment. 

Dean, barely holding himself upright, tried to stumble to his feet but Sam slipped his arm under his shoulder and practically carried him towards the house. Cas took the other side, together taking on all of Dean's weight as they rushed him into the clinic. 

"I told you this might happen," Castiel's voice full of solemn, cold reproach, "That with your condition, things can go very wrong, very fast. And now they have. You need to comply with treatment. I need to know that you understand." 

Dean was helped by Sam and Benny, painfully up onto the examination table. He panted through the pain of them pulling his pants off, leaving him naked and exposed. But there wasn't really any other way and he knew it.

He knew what was coming. Castiel had talked him through a treatment plan several times already, and each time Dean had outright refused. 

"Yes. Alright. Fucking Fine. Just do what you need to do to fix me. Please Cas," he ground out, desperately. Wanting to beg Cas not to give him a lecture right now, just Fix It.... fix it before he passed out again and the damage became permanent. 

Cas shot him an angry look, but nodded, Good Enough. It was obvious how much pain Dean was in and he couldn't let it continue. He cared too deeply for this frustrating, disaster of an Omega, to let anything harm him. The conversation would have to come later. 

He had Sam help ease Dean onto his back, knees spread but feet tucked together. His distress at being in this position making it obvious just how much discomfort he must have been experiencing. 

"I'm sorry," Castiel warned, "if you'd let me treat this sooner, it wouldn't have to hurt so much. But now I've got no other option but to do this the hard way," he held up the catheter so Dean could see it. The memory of their last conversation on the topic hanging sourly in the air between them. The box of sounds had never even made it out of the cupboard before Dean had refused the option. 

"Just fucking do it." Dean bit out. 

Cas nodded, and set to work, prepping the area around Dean's penis, getting the kit ready, sanitizing his skin. Benny meanwhile inserted an IV and gave Dean some pain relief and IV fluids. 

"Ok, deep breaths. Sam, Benny, you'll both need to hold him down for this,"

Dean choked and bit back a scream, as the first inch of plastic was threaded into his oversensitive, too tight urethra. Thrashing, but held tight in his brother's arms, Dean actually screamed as Cas pushed in again. Benny his him tight and rubbed his back as he arched up off the table. His knees pressing tight against the sides of Castiel's body, instinctively trying to close, but unable to do anything but press and shake as he was held open. The doctor focussed and calm, even as Dean thrashed on the table. 

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," all anger, all frustration gone from Castiel's voice and replaced with worry and sadness, “I'm going as fast as I dare.”

Dean wished he'd just pass out now. But the adrenaline was still coursing through him, the panic and fear keeping him wide awake and feeling every inch of the plastic forcing its way inside.

***

"Breathe… that's it... and try not to tense up. I know it's uncomfortable but it'll be over soon," Cas said as he gently threaded the tube further down into Dean's sore urethra. 

It wasn't easy going, and twice Castiel had to stop and allow Dean to catch his breath. He wasn't panicking, but it was a close call. 

Dean knew it wasn't usually a painful procedure, he'd had it done often enough to know, but this time, even using the smallest diameter tube, the stretch was more than his body was comfortably able to accept, but they had no choice. He'd really left it too long. Fuck it hurt! 

Cas apologized for not being able to do much about the discomfort, he'd injected an anaesthetic gel up his urethra as deeply as he could and given Dean some general pain relief through an IV, but it wasn't doing much to take the edge off as the tube moved in again, deeper inside his body. 

Dean hated being catheterised. He tried almost everything to avoid it. But all the doctors always ended up shoving that stupid tube up inside him anyway, no matter how vehemently he told them he didn't need it. Then they’d tell him to leave it there for days or even weeks at a time, he wanted to tell them to fuck off, but if he did that they’d call Sam and it would all go to shit anyway, so he played the obedient little omega.

But straight after every appointment he always pulled it right back out again, sometimes right there in the bathroom of the doctors office. He never let Sam see it either, better he didn’t get any ideas. But right now it was needed, he could admit that, even if it hurt much more than it ever had before. 

"It's ok," Cas soothed, "We're almost done, then it'll feel so much better," Cas pushed in again, another inch of plastic threaded its way inside and Dean struggled back the urge to push Castiel's fingers away, off his poor abused dick. To punch him in the face. 

Six inches , Dean thought to himself, that's only the length of my dick and he still has all the way up into my bladder still to go. Fuck. 

It wasn't the pain, he'd been through worse pain before. It was the deep, constant stretch, the urgency, the feeling that he was going to be ripped apart, it was unbearable. He was already in agony from his overfull bladder, and disoriented from dehydration. So the feeling of the intrusive push of plastic, forcing its way into his body, unrelenting and insistent, it was just too much. 

Even as Cas, gentle as ever, patiently waited each time he needed a break, his breath still caught and his teeth ground down each time Cas so much as shifted the tube, he constantly fought back the edge of panic. 

Dean knew that it was necessary, unfortunately, to do the catheterisation immediately. To push through his own body's resistance and empty his bladder as a matter of extreme urgency. But knowing didn't help make it any easier. 

He couldn't keep going like this for much longer, he knew that. But he was terrified of what that meant. Of what Sam might feel he had to do. 

***

It was the final, agonising push against the opening of his bladder that set Dean off one final time, fighting against Sam and Castiel and the plastic invading his body. 

He wanted it OUT, Now NOW, Take it out!.. everything inside him screamed at the wrongness, the stretching, forceful plastic holding him was wrong. But Sam held him down onto the table, Castiel holding the tube in one hand and a urinary bag in the other, still forcing his legs apart. 

"We're almost there, just one last push," Cas calmly informed him as he kept feeding in the plastic.. 

"No, fuck you. I can't." 

"Yes, almost...almost… and we're in," 

The final push startled a hissed scream out between his lips, the burn shuddering through his pelvis.. 

But then Castiel had the urinary bag attached and the flow wide open. The agony almost immediately shifted to relief as the urine was finally released. He let out a low, needy whine as he felt the pressure finally, finally relieved. It felt like all his energy, his fight was flowing out between his legs. 

*** 

Three minutes later, Dean was still panting but was otherwise silent as the liquid finally escaped from his body. Castiel could clearly see the exhaustion in his sluggish, uncoordinated movements. He’d been running on adrenaline and now it was wearing off. After this he would likely crash even worse than before, likely to be barely conscious at all for the next few days. 

He was exhausted. Down to the bone tired and Castiel seemed to sense it. With a loud click, he pushed the base section of the table back up into place and then he picked up each of Dean's feet, placing them gently back down so he was finally laying flat. 

From somewhere he retrieved a warmed blanket and pillow, laying one over him and the other under his head. He brushed the hair back off Dean's sweaty forehead, and kiss him there gently. He took a moment to lean over and check the tube before speaking, in that calm, kind way that he had. 

"I know that was very difficult, but it's over now, sweetheart. You can sleep for a bit, we'll be here to look after you," finally Castiel's voice only held that familiar warmth and affection. He felt Cas's hand resting in his hair, smoothing back the strands. He leant forward and Dean could feel the press of lips to the side of his face and then he was gone. 

He drifted off to the sounds of Cas lowering the brightness of the lights and taking a seat by the doorway. He had a file in his lap and was writing some notes, but Dean was asleep before he had a chance to ask what he was writing down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: catheters, John Winchester's abusive parenting, 
> 
> Please do comments and let me know what you think !


	2. Chapter 2

Dean opened his eyes reluctantly, his still aching muscles and tired mind slow to focus and rise out of exhausted sleep. He knew he would need to face the music eventually, but he really didn't feel ready. Everything still hurt too much. 

"You awake?" Benny asked, shifting up off the chair he had been sitting in next to Dean's bed.

They'd moved him from the examination table to the recovery bed in the corner. Right now a curtain was pulled across the space, obscuring most of the rest of the room. But he could still see through the door and out the large window by his bed with views of the gardens and the pool, so he figured it wasn't too bad. The bed was comfortable enough too. Warm thick cotton sheets and a heavy comforter tucked around him, nothing like the scratchy hospital beds he was used to. Even the curtains were made from what looked like silk, it all seemed so odd to have this sort of luxury in a clinical room like this. But Dean wasn't complaining. 

"Yeah," Dean croaked, his voice still rough from earlier. 

Benny immediately held a cup with a straw to Dean's lips, "It's alright to drink now, friend. You won't retain it anymore. Your bladder is empty and the flow is open,"

"Oh thank fuck," Dean couldn't help feeling desperately grateful for that. His last few weeks had been a misery, of constant urgency without being able to properly relieve himself. He still felt bruised inside, like he'd taken a beating. 

"Take it easy," Benny warned, "You don't want to overwhelm that stomach of yours. With how little you've been eating and drinking lately, it's going to be a bit sensitive for a while."

Dean nodded, surprised he didn't feel thirstier, but before he could ponder that Benny explained, tapping the IV pole hanging above Dean's head. "You were extremely dehydrated when you came in, Dr Novak was surprised you were even conscious when you arrived. We've given you three saline bags already and he's got you down for two more after this one"

Benny gently flicked the tube currently snaking its way down along the mattress and into Dean's arm, checking the flow. 

"He put anything else in there, besides saline?" Dean asked, sure he could feel the hazy edge of drugs in his system. 

"Yeah, just pain relief, I know you don't like to take it. But you didn't give him much choice this time my friend," Benny sounded a bit sad, "You should have been taking some already you know," Benny sounded disappointed, frustrated with Dean's failure to look after himself. 

But Dean wasn't in the mood for this conversation with him. He knew he would have to sit through it again with Cas and probably Sam too before the day was over, he didn't need to hear it from Benny as well. He sighed, "Whatever, can you help me up?"

"No can do. Sorry mate, you're on strict bed rest. Gonna be a quite a while before you'll be up and about again. And anyway, Cas wanted me to let him know when you'd woken up. He'll want to check you over," Benny rests his hand on Dean's shoulder, warm and reassuring. "I've just texted him."

Dean would have pushed him away and gotten up anyway, but he was still so tired, his whole body felt like it'd been put through the ringer. He ached in places he didn't know he could ache. 

"Hello Dean," Castiel voice was calm again, but clearly still a little strained, "I see you're awake," That gravely voice never failed to send a shiver of lust down his spine, but it was the warm, calm that somehow always settled him. He wanted to curl up, head in the other man's lap, put his arms around his waist and sleep for days, breathing in his scent.

"Yep," Dean aimed for nonchalant, but came across more petulant sounding, "Good as new. Thanks for fixing me up. Sam and I will be out of your hair as soon as you unhook me, we left halfway through a hunt. Gotta get back to it," he gestured to the IV and catheter bag he could see hanging on the side of the bed. 

"Dean, you know you can't..." he paused, and seemed to be considering his words carefully, he looked extremely sad all of a sudden, "Your condition… " but Sam interrupted him, storming into the clinic, obviously on a mission. 

"He means to say that you're not going anywhere anytime soon. You scared the shit out of us. You were so severely dehydrated you could have died, you're starving, wasting away and you probably gave yourself kidney and bladder damage, which we're now going to have to do tests for by the way. You knew it was dangerous but let it happen anyway. Why the fuck didn't you tell me it had gotten that bad?!?!" 

Sam was furious, and scared, Dean could see the emotions raging behind his brother's eyes.

But he was angry too, angry at the world for putting him in this position, angry at his body, and unfairly needing to take that anger out on someone, unfortunately, that meant Sam right now. 

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to deal with all this shit!" Dean gestured to the tubes and monitors snaking their way inside him. "You tell me, would you have told if you were in my place? You tell me that you'd be agreeable to doctors shoving tubes and monitors up inside you on the daily, no fucking end in sight for the rest of our life. I call bullshit," Dean is the one who is furious now, really God Damn angry about it. "Of course I didn't fucking say anything,"

But Sam was giving him those puppy dog eyes, and looked like he was about to cry. All the anger was gone, replaced by fear and anxiety, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me. If I can't trust you to tell me when you're hurting, when you're sick. I can't look after you like you deserve. You could have died." Sam slumps down in the chair by the bed, cheeks wet with tears. He takes Dean's hand in his own. "I'm so sorry, but it's too much. I just can't do it anymore,"

Dean felt a lead weight settle on his chest, cold fear starting to creep through this blood, his voice barely a whisper "What did you do?!?" he asks, "Sam, did you sign anything?" 

"I'm sorry, you didn't leave me any choice. I'm not a doctor. I can't do it alone," Sam sounded so sad, so regretful and so final.

"What did you sign?" Dean's voice is cold, monotone even to himself. 

But Sam just continues to cry, leaning his face into Dean's hip, his arm reaching across him to pull him close. "I'm so sorry,"

Dean can't move, he just stares, watching his brother's shoulders rise and fall with heavy sobbing breaths. He feels numb. Confused. He's not sure what this even means. 

Although his brother had held his guardianship since their father had passed away, they barely spoke about it, barely acknowledged the fact that Sam basically owned Dean.

Apart from giving him the basics like, taking him down once in awhile, letting him submit when he needed the release, there wasn't much that Sam even did for Dean in that way. Sure he gave Dean his rules, Dean couldn't function without those, but he barely enforced them anyway. Dean basically lived the life of a neutral or an independent Omega, his contract basically just words on a page. It hadn't really meant anything. 

But now it did, Sam owned Dean, and he had done something terrible. 

"Please Sammy," Dean felt small, desperate, "You need to tell me. Maybe we can still annul the contract, it might not be too late. Just tell me it wasn't to a fucking care home, or a facility. Please tell me you aren't locking me away." He could hear the panic start to bleed into his voice, those places were terrifying. They treated him like he was fragile, like he couldn't make any decisions for himself. The few times Dean had been picked up by the law, social workers had sent him to spent a couple of nights in one, till Dad came and got him. He'd hated every moment of it, their fake concern, the doctors, the counsellors, the nurses, all of them conspiring to take everything away from him.

He could feel himself panicking for real now, the edge of the room going gray. His breathing getting faster and heartbeat louder. He started to plan ways to escape, the get away, away from whatever Sam had done to him. 

But Castiel's low, controlled voice cut through the panic, as always, gentle but firm, "No, you will never ever be sent to a facility or a care home. I promise. You will be staying here, with me."

Dean's eyes flicked up, shocked. Castiel met his gaze confidently and continued, "Sam has agreed to a co-guardianship with me as your primary."

"Primary?" Dean echoes. His brain shuttered to a stop at the cascade of wild thoughts racing through his brain. _But of course,_ his brain provided, _he's been leading up to this for months, what did you think would happen when you kept refusing him?_

"I had my lawyer prepare the documents months ago. I assure you they are entirely legal and immediately enforceable." 

"Months ago.." Dean feels dumb, stupid at the way he can't help but repeat what Cas told him. His was unable to process the information. He feels.... betrayed? Had Castiel planned this? After he'd refused so many times before, had Castiel finally grown this desperate? 

Castiel nodded as if Dean had actually asked him a question, his voice growing softer, gentler, like he knew this was going to be hard for Dean to hear. "After our last conversation, I suspected that it might become necessary, although I hoped that wouldn't. I hoped that I could convince you to willingly engage with treatment, to allow yourself to accept the support that you so very much need. " He held Dean's eyes, refusing to give an inch, " I didn't want it to happen this way, but you gave us no choice,"

Dean felt his cheeks heat up, with anger or shame, he wasn't sure. But all of a sudden he wanted to be alone. 

"Get Out!" He screamed, white hot and burning with it. "Leave me the fuck alone! All of you!"

"Dean…" Sam started to say, pleadingly…

"No. GET OUT!" 

Castiel fixed him with an assessing look, calm as always, "Listen to me, just for a moment and then we'll leave you alone." His voice allowed no argument, "I know you're angry and you have a right to be upset that we did this without your permission. But you're sick and in so much pain right now, that you're not capable of thinking clearly. I know it feels like a betrayal, but we have made the right choice. I will take care of you from now on," He took Dean's hand in his own and kissed his palm, gently resting his fingers on his pulse and feeling it slow down with the certainty, the strength behind the words. "I'm going to get you stabilised, started on some proper treatments and soon things will start to get better for you. It might not feel like it right now, and it's not going to be easy, but I promise you, it's going to be better this way." 

Dean wanted to beg. He wanted to scream. And he wanted to cry. But he didn't do any of those things. He just felt regretful that he hadn't been given the choice, that they had been driven to this. 

In another time, he might have asked Sam to sign over his contract to Castiel, he might have agreed. He'd even fantasized about it occasionally. About waving goodbye to Sam the day he returned to Stanford, his own hand grasped warmly in Castiels own, standing in the doorway of the home they shared. He'd hoped, someday off in the distance, he might find the courage to agree. Castiel had asked often enough. 

But now, it wasn't his choice anymore. Sam and Castiel had taken that choice away from him. 

"Please just leave me alone," he turned away, as much as the tubes and monitors would allow. He closed his eyes, hoping that Castiel would get the message.

He just sighed, disappointed that he didn't get a response, "Ok Dean. I know you need time to think. I'll be back in a couple of hours with some food. Rest till then." 

Dean didn't reply, didn't move. He turned his head away and his body language screamed Just _go away!_

Castiel walked out. Not even pausing to say goodbye, but Dean would hear the catch in his breath as he rushed from the room, _so he did feel guilty beneath all that,_ Dean thought to himself bitterly, _Good! But_ also knowing he was being unfair. Castiel cared deeply, he always had. 

Sam was slower, opening this mouth as if to say something, but deciding against it. He hung his head and shuffled from the room. Misery clear in every step. 

Benny was the last to leave, he checked the IV bag and lowered the lights. Before he left, he rested his hand on Dean's shoulder, for a moment, "He loves you, you know. He would give up heaven and earth for you. You just gotta give him a chance."

Benny left before Dean had a chance to ask if he was referring to Sam or Castiel. And he was asleep before he had a chance to think too hard on it either way. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Sam signs over Guardianship of Dean to Castiel, technically non-consentual administration of pain medications but Dean doesn't mind. 
> 
> Comments are definitely appreciated!! I'd love to hear what you think so far!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean could hear low murmured voices somewhere nearby, but they were obviously trying not to disturb his sleep. Although the lights were still a little dimmed, he could just make out Cas and Sam, peering at a monitor mounted on the wall by the filing cabinet. There were several such monitors scattered about the large clinical space. 

"How long will he need to keep it in?" Sam asks. 

"It's different for everyone. Some people respond well to treatment and only need to have it in for a few days every couple of months. For others it's a couple of days a week. It really depends. But initially, it always requires a period of continuous treatment before a routine can be established." 

Dean couldn't help but ask, "Keep what in? This thing?" He gestured to the plastic tube still pushed deeply inside him. It was still extremely uncomfortable, the stretch of the hard plastic forced inside his tender passage ached. He wanted it out, his hands twitched with the desire to just yank it out of himself. But knew, not only was it was still very necessary, but that even if he succeeded, Castiel would just sigh and ask Sam and Benny to hold him still while he inserted a new one. And he reall,my, really didn't want to go through that again any time soon. 

Cas looked at Sam for a moment as something silent passed between them. But quickly they turned back to Dean. 

"No, not that. But we can talk about treatment options later. Right now you need to eat. Your weight has dropped substantially since your last check-up and you were already borderline clinical then. I thought we agreed that you would increase your intake by at least 500 calories a day. That you continue to lose weight is quite concerning," he sounded disappointed but not angry at least. Dean didn't want to admit that he often pretended to eat larger meals than he actually did or opened snacks that he never ate more than a mouthful or two. He didn't want to admit that he was having major trouble eating even tiny qualitiesand even then he often threw it back up soon after. Cas had told him that it was common for his condition, but he had shrugged him off, denying the problem. 

Cas sat himself next to Dean's bed, pulling out a familiar information sheet and resting it on Dean's lap. Dean groaned, already experienced with this particular lecture, "You have Dimeroski Syndrome. It's an extremely rare genetic disorder that affects only male Omegas." 

"I know all this already. I've heard it a thousand times." Dean grits out, "I don't need reminding,"

"You obviously do or yesterday would not have happened." His voice is cold, determined, "I'm hoping now that you've experienced how bad it can actually get, you'll listen and take it seriously." 

"Please Dean." Sam begged, "I never want to be so scared ever again. Please just listen."

"Fuck, fine." Now that he'd had a chance to sleep and was more lucid, even he could admit that what he had done was utterly stupid and dangerous. It just hadn't felt that way in the moment, his own fear driving him to ignore and deny reality.

That didn't mean he wasn't still feeling completely betrayed and enraged over what they had done. Cas was now his primary, fuck…. He'd never hear the end of it now. 

Cas took his silence as an opportunity to continue, "As I was saying, Dimeroski Syndrome is chronic, progressive and inevitably fatal if left untreated." He pauses for impact, but Dean just rolls his eyes at him, "However, if intensive treatment starts early, the condition can be successfully managed. It is characterised by a progressive reduction and tightening of many of the passages and organs throughout the digestive and reproductive systems of the body. Fortunately, several treatments and medications have been developed which allow for successful dilation and maintenance of the affected systems. With intensive treatment and constant monitoring for compliance, the patient can go on to live a full and healthy life." 

Dean knows all this. He's experienced how bad it can get first-hand.

***

_[ He remembered when he was first diagnosed. It was after the state-mandated genetic screener at 18 years old._

_The doctor, eyes full of pity, had sat him down and explained that at some point in the next 6-8 years he would likely start to experience difficulty with peeing, eating, swallowing, defecating, sexual intimacy or any number of other issues and that he would need to alert his guardian to start treatment. His body's anal, vaginal, urinary and other passages would tighten up, his stomach and bladder would shrink. If not treated with special devices and intense therapies it could become a fatal condition. But not to worry, they said, the_ _usual age of onset was 25, lots of time before then to get used to the idea. Then they gave him a pamphlet of symptoms to watch for before patting him on the head and telling him not to worry too much about it now, it was years away. And anyway, there were loads of good treatments available, nothing to worry about at all._

_John had gotten a more thorough explanation he presumed, as he was visibly angry when he retrieved Dean from the Omega care centre several hours later. He scrunched up the pamphlet and threw it in the bin, grabbing Dean by the back of his jacket and dragging him out into the car park._

_"Dad?" Dean had asked, nervously._

_"Don't.._ _._ I don't want to hear it. _" His father's tone cold, a warning. His clenched fists around the steering wheel were clear enough. John would refuse to speak of it again, even when the time it took Dean to piss got longer and longer. And he was eating four then five, then ten small meals every day, feeling full before he'd barely begun. He'd watched Dean purchase laxatives and stool softeners every other day for years and never said a word. His silence was enough, he didn't want to hear about it._

_Then he passed away, and Sam had been awarded guardianship. The state had emailed through a copy of Dean's files, including medical records. Sam had sat up the entire night reading them all. Carefully taking notes of each page, school reports, social worker notes, legal documents and finally medical reports._

_Dean can remember exactly when Sam came across the diagnosis letter. The way his eyes shot up from the screen and stared at him. The way they flicked over to the bathroom and back to Dean, lounging on the bed watching the shitty motel TV. Dean hadn't really been watching it, he'd been too nervous, instead he listened to every time Sam clicked open a new document, sneaking glances at Sam's face as his brother's facial expressions grew darker and angrier as the night wore on. It was almost dawn and Dean had visited their shared bathroom four times already that night. He'd also gone for a couple of walks, telling Sam he needed let off steam, but really he'd gone to stand behind a tree and curse the many slow minutes it now took to empty his bladder. He rarely got through a night without at least seven or eight trips to the bathroom, but he'd learnt how to hide, joke about it or dismiss it well enough by now that Sam just accepted it as normal._

_But as Sam's eyes flicked back down to the medical records and back up to Dean._

_"How long has it been? Since you started to experience symptoms? How long?"_

_Dean couldn't meet his eyes, Sam's voice told him that he better at least tell him something. Sam was really, really angry , holding himself back. Holding himself very, very still, the muscles under his shirt twitching with aborted movement._

_"Four....uh, maybe five years? I can't remember exactly." He kept his voice very, very calm._

_"Four or five YEARS!!!!" Sam's anger was explosive, "Are you FUCKING kidding me?!?" He stood up and began pacing, back and forward._

_Dean couldn't help curling his body away from his brother, his anger felt like a blow, like violence._

_"How far along is it? How bad?"_

_Dean didn't reply. He started to silently pack his bag, putting on his shoes and slipping his phone and keys into his pocket. His body running on autopilot, the instinct to get out, get away, long ago becoming habitual. Living with John had taught him that the only safe response was to leave, and often even that wasn't enough._

_"What the fuck are you doing?"_

_Sam was in front of him then, blocking Dean from getting to the doorway. Dean tried to step around him, but Sam blocked him again. And once more before, to Dean's shock, he pulled him into his arms. Roughly, desperately holding him against this chest, as if scared he might vanish._

_Dean didn't respond at first, too shocked and surprised to even register the sobbing, shaky breaths that Sam was taking, his body standing frozen with his bag still gripped tight in his palm._

_But then the warmth of his brother's body and way he clung, heaving and gasping filtered through. This was Sam. He dropped the bag and hugged him back, tighter and more fiercely than ever before. It all came crashing down around him, all the emotion and the fear. This was Sam and he held on even tighter. So fucking glad._

_"Sit down, talk to me ! I need to know everything." Sam was looking right at him, he'd pulled away, tears still wet on his cheeks, but he was determined, "You don't get to walk out on this conversation."_

_Sam kicked Dean's bag away and pushed him towards the table. "Sit"_

_So Dean sat. And talked. He told Sam just enough. Not everything. He couldn't find the strength to do that, but he told him some of it. How tired he was, how he dealt with it, that he was constantly changing strategies to compensate._

_But he also lied. Of course he lied. Sam was just a kid, halfway through his twenties and already he had experienced so much pain. He didn't need the weight of all this as well. So Dean minimised, told half-truths and avoided certain topics. He told Sam it was manageable, that it hadn't progressed very far and that it wasn't painful. He lied and lied and lied._

  
  


_***_

_Sam had taken him to a doctor the next day. And an Omega specialist two months later. And then an appointment, every six months. Then Cas took over and the appointments became three months and sometimes in between too, when they were passing through or needed medical attention for something else. But Sam never skipped an appointment, never rescheduled either. He'd pass off a hunt to someone else rather than wait another day._

_But Dean had lied to them as well, to the extent that he could get away with anyway. More often than not he'd come away from appointments anyway with additional medications, dietary requirements and plans, tests they recommended and twice he'd been sent home with a catheter and instructions not to have it removed for at least a week. He'd nodded, promised to pass on the recommendations and then lied through his teeth. He was so glad that Sam was willing to book whichever specialist was closest to their current location, eleven different doctors in six years. No follow-up appointments as each time Dean strategically located a new hunt in a different location._

_That was until Sam started making bookings with Dr Novak. Castiel had followed up, grim and frowning over the results, he had ordered tests and reviewed them with Dean, worried and frustrated with Dean's apparent apathy towards his fragile health. But he was also only able to do so much. Long-established patterns of hiding and Sam respecting that he could take care of his own medical needs, gave Dean the opportunity to continue with the ruse, the denial and the lies._

_But each time they visited, after each examination Castiel grew more and more frustrated. Desperate to help, but powerless to change their behaviour. Sam trusted Dean to take care of himself and Dean, well Dean did just enough to hide the truth from him._

_That was until he couldn't anymore]_

*** 

The inevitable, awful day had finally arrived, he grieved for the pain and incredible suffering he knew Dean had endured getting to this point. But Castiel mostly felt relieved, because he knew that at least now he could start to help. As his primary guardian, he now had the power to force Dean to comply with treatment to get the help he so desperately needed. 

He'd also felt anger at John, a man so blind and selfish that he taught Dean that the only option he had was to hide his pain. And he was angry at himself, for allowing Dean to continue hurting himself, knowing it was the only way he would be able to help him. Only when Dean couldn't hide anymore when it had gotten so bad that he was forced to admit it, when Sam was so overwhelmed and distraught, that either one of them could accept assistance. 

He'd known, from the first time he'd examined Dean that it was so much worse than he was willing to admit. He knew Sam wasn't able to stand up to his brother, to force him to get treatment, and he knew that if he didn't do something, no one else would. So he waited, reassured them that he would be available whenever they needed medical assistance, renovated his house, enlarged his clinic and had the transfer of guardianship prepared for the day that Dean's body finally gave in. 

All the preparations in the world didn't make it any easier though. It didn't make it easier to watch Dean slowly waste away, to watch him struggle to swallow even the smallest qualities of food, to hear when stifled his winces and cries of pain behind a cough or a laugh. None of it was easy. But it was necessary because now he was here, now he was safe and now he would get the absolute best treatment that medicine could provide. 

*** 

Dean was still sleeping, his body finally able to rest fully now that the urgency and desperation of a full bladder had subsided and the dehydration was being treated. Cas had hoped he'd have a chance to eat at least a little, but it was clear from the exhaustion in Dean's eyes that he didn't have the energy for even that much. 

Castiel had settled for intravenous nutrition instead, not a perfect solution, but it would suffice for now. He'd been tempted to start nasogastric tube feeding earlier than planned but worried that he might wake up during the insertion and find it distressing. He planned to give Dean an endoscopy soon, and figure out exactly what he was working with, but knew that refeeding would need to start first. 

He knew Dean was going to fight him on everything. Fight the entire process, and challenge him again and again. But Castiel was ready, he'd had two years to prepare and he wasn't going to fail him. Now he just needed to make sure Sam understood what was a stake, why it was all necessary and what was going to happen now and going forward. 

He asked Benny to watch over Dean. The nurse was well briefed on the plan for Dean's care and treatment, had helped him design it, and could be relied upon to provide whatever Dean required. There was no way Castiel would be allowing Dean to be left unsupervised anytime soon, not with his extremely fragile health, vulnerable psychological state, traumatic background, and extensive combat/evasion skills. No, Dean would require constant monitoring and supervision for a long time to come. 

Sam and Dean were aware that he had professional security monitoring the grounds. They had to pass through two different security check points prior to entering the main property. And they had no doubt seen the patrols, the cameras and the guard stations along the edges on his extensive lands.

But the contract security teams were forbidden from entering the central gardens and grounds. Castiel had a small inner circle of staff who he trusted completely, people he could rely upon for their discretion and loyalty. The main staff included nurses, a chef, cleaners, groundskeepers, his PA, bodyguards (several would now be assigned to Dean exclusively), a driver and an office manager. Many of them had worked for his family for generations.

His family believed that the best way to foster loyalty and dedication from it's staff was through providing them with the same in return. All of his personal staff were paid substantial wages, offered private generous accommodation for themselves and their families, substantial scholarships to only the best schools and colleges and given enviable retirement packages commensurate with the level of dedicated service they provided. They were fiercely loyal, incredibly hardworking and very protective of him and his family.

He knew that loyalty would now be expanded to include Sam and Dean. Especially now that Dean was officially under his guardianship and protection. Castiel had always been open and honest with them, and he continued to be so about his plans with Dean.

He had explained that what would be required of them wasn't going to be easy for anyone, especially Dean, but that he relied on them to assist with treatment compliance. Dean would need all their support if he was going to get through the difficult times ahead. 

Many knew Dean and Sam already, from the times that they'd visited his property and stayed a day or two to recover. They adored Dean already, not only for his courage and determination, but also for his sweet, generous nature. They already felt protective of him. And Sam, they saw the way he adored his brother, wanting the best for him but unsure how to provide it for him.

He was also aware that alongside his own treatment schedule, they had developed their own plan to provide Dean with the support and care he deserved. He knew that the Dean would find the next few months and years hard, what was necessary unfortunately, wasn't going to be easy, but hopefully with everyone working together they would get him through it. 

***

The first step was preparing Sam for what was ahead. Although he had signed the primary guardianship over, Castiel still knew he needed Sam on board for every step of the way or it wasn't going to work. This was a conversation he had prepared for, but was dreading nonetheless. 

They were seated in the meeting room. Files, folders and test results scattered on the table between them. A lifetime of Dean's neglect and suffering written in black and white. 

"I know that this isn't going to be easy to hear but Dean has been lying to you. Probably right from the beginning." 

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "I know. I knew he was downplaying it all along, I just didn't realise how much. Or maybe I did and I just didn't want to admit it," he runs his hands through his hair, gripping some at the back in his fist momentarily, allowing himself a short burst of physical pain to counteract the emotional. Castiel sympathises. It hadn't been easy for any of them. 

"It's not your fault. He's incredibly skilled at hiding it, even from professionals like myself. I constantly had to double check my results, he was so convincing that even I doubted what the tests were showing me." 

Sam nodded, "Yeah, he's an excellent liar." He doesn't sound pleased about it, "You won't be able to rely on what he tells you. You'll need to use tests and you own examinations," 

"I'm aware," Castiel leans forward and holds himself back from the urge to hug Sam, they have too much to get through, "I hope that in time Dean will learn that it's ok to be honest. That what happened before wasn't right. And that we're all here to help him, even when sometimes it might not feel that way at first," 

Sam looks hopeful for a moment, "I do want that for him. I know it's going to be awful for him for a while. A while ago I read up on it and looked into some of the treatments. Honestly, most of them seem almost cruel. I think part of why I just let this go on as long as I did, was fear for him and for me, I didn't want to face having to take the necessary steps to ensure he was healthy. I'm not sure I'll be able to it now,"

Castiel does reach over this time, pulling Sam into a hug, letting him rest his head on Cas's shoulder for a moment. 

"You won't have to. I'll take on that responsibly as his primary guardian and carer. As a doctor I have come to accept that sometimes I have to hurt my patients to help them. This is one of those times. But I need to know that I'll have your full support. Dean won't be able to get through this unless we work together, unless we unite in our efforts." 

Sam is quiet for a moment, sad and clearly distressed at having to take on even this much. But he pulls himself together, nodding and meeting Castiel's gaze. 

"You're right. Whatever you require from me, I'll support you. Dean needs me to be strong." 

"Thank you. I want you to know that you can speak to me about anything, ask questions about any of my medical decisions and treatments. I just request that you do it privately, not in front of Dean." 

"Yes, of course. I understand completely." 

Castiel feels relieved, it's barely just begun, but at least one obstacle has been avoided. Now he needs to walk Sam through the initial treatment plan, the next two weeks are going to be essential in setting up expectations and beginning the journey. 

"Ok, what's first?" Sam asks, pulling out his laptop and opening a new document. 

"After we get him stabilized, we'll need to establish a longer-term hydration and feeding schedule that will be strictly enforced. Priority treatments will include bladder training, anal and vaginal dilation..." 

Castiel began the long and heartbreaking process of explaining just what would be needed and how intense it was soon to become.... 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Disordered Eating,


	4. Chapter 4

This time Dean woke up gently. He was warm, comfortable and the room was quiet. He dozed for a little while, the only are sounds his own breathing and the occasional turning of a page from the file Castiel was reading. He was sitting by the door and using the light from the corridor to illuminate the pages in his lap. He looked tired, with a tightness around his eyes that Dean had never seen before. He felt suddenly guilty, ashamed to have been the cause of so much worry and concern for both Castiel and Sam. 

"Cas?" Dean asked, suddenly needing him, desperate for him to move closer. 

Castiel looked up and seeing that he was awake, quickly placed down the file and walked over to Dean’s bedside. He looked down at him, his expression full of concerned affection, the worry clear in his eyes. 

But then Cas smiled happy and relieved, obviously pleased to see Dean awake and looking much more alert. Dean couldn’t help but feel something heavy in his chest start to lift. There was always something reassuring about waking up in his presence, so necessary. 

Dean desperately wanted Castiel to lean over and kiss him right then, his desire was obvious, but he knew that he wouldn’t. Because right from the start he’d been completely honest and sincere with Dean about his feelings about and desire for him. He’d always also been extremely careful to let Dean take the lead in all public aspects of their relationship. 

  
  
  


***

  
  


_ [At night sometimes, as they lay curled in each other's arms, Dean would tell Castiel about all the terrible things he had seen. The monsters and the demons, the cruelty and the loss and all the things that he had witnessed out on the road. He would tell him about the people he was able to save, and the ones that he couldn’t, the ones that still haunted his dream. Castiel knew all the broken, aching, dark and terrible places inside him. He knew that Dean was often lonely, scared and angry, and telling him somehow settled something deep inside his mind.  _

_ Castiel knew things about him that he’d never admitted to anyone, dark, sad truths and angry hurt and still he loved him. He knew what Dean needed but could never bring himself to ask for, and he gave it to him anyway. And once it was over, once all the words and images had faded from the air between them. Castiel would tell him that he was loved.  _

_ He’d instinctively hidden the true depth of their relationship from Sam, too frightened by what it might mean to tell him the whole truth.  _

_ Sneaking up to Castiel’s room late each night, pretending that their relationship was just a casual fling, nothing more. And Castiel had let him continue the ruse, had never pressured Dean to tell Sam the truth or argued with him about going back out hunting when he knew all Castiel wanted was for Dean to stay. He’d respected Dean’s choice to continue as if they were just casually sleeping together, to continue hunting and didn’t push for anything more even though he knew that the depth of his feelings were reciprocated.  _

_ That was until the night they bonded.  _

_ Dean had asked for it, after a lonely, miserable day on the road, he’d whispered his desire into Castiel’s ear as he embraced him just inside the front door, desperate for his attention. He had asked and Castiel had immediately accepted. Mere seconds after they had made it up to the bedroom, Castiel had bitten down on his neck, opened up his mind and with grateful joy offered Dean a piece of his soul to keep as his own.  _

_ He’d never even hesitated.  _

_ The next morning Castiel had wanted to tell Sam and to notify his own family of the bonding, he wanted to make it fully legal and official, but Dean refused.  _

_ Castiel promised he would never force him, even though he had the right, he would leave the decision about when to make their bond official up to him. But Dean could tell he was heartbroken when he continued to refuse. Every time they’d visited he’d asked again, argued that he had a right to make sure Dean could be included in his will and protected if something happened to him or to Sam. As his bondmate Dean would be entitled to part of his income and estate, he would be financially and legally protected for the rest of his life. Castiel had begged Dean to allow him to even file the legal paperwork in secret, knowing that without it, if something happened to Sam, Dean would be sent to an institution and he would have no legal rights over him.  _

_ He was also desperately concerned about Dean’s health, worried that he was still refusing all treatments and getting sicker every day. He knew that Dean was slowly losing the ability to function, to live a normal life. Already they couldn’t have sex as an alpha and omega normally would, couldn’t knot or mate, couldn’t properly consumate the bond as their souls demanded. It left Dean feeling like a failure, like his Dad had been right to make him promise never to bond, never to seek a mate. His father was disgusted in him and he was right to be.  _

_ Dean was getting weaker and sicker every time Castiel saw him and it was breaking him too. Dean was hiding it as well as he could, lying or refusing to talk about it when he couldn’t hide it anymore. He’d long ago learned to put up with the constant pain and the fatigue, to force his body to endure it all silently. He never complained, never allowed anyone to see how much of a struggle it was for him to get through the day. But if Castiel so much as mentioned it, the next morning, without fail Dean was packed up and gone. He’d find a hunt or invent one, pack up the car and leave without saying goodbye. _

_ Castiel knew Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t agree to make the bond official because that would mean getting Sam’s permission and filing documents with the courts. His guardianship would be automatically transferred to his new alpha and he knew what Castiel would do when that happened.  _

_ He had always been honest and clear about his intentions, he had never lied to Dean and he promised he never would. Castiel had told him right from the start that once they were legally bonded, once he was officially Dean’s Alpha and Guardian, he intended to take proper care of him, no more refusing treatments, no more denying himself the deeper levels of submission that were needed to keep him healthy. It meant surrendering to Castiel and trusting that he would keep him safe.  _

_ He tried to reassure Dean, promising that once he was strong enough he would be allowed to return to hunting. Once he learned how to submit deeply enough to repair his damaged mind and had completed enough of the necessary treatments to make his body healthy. He would just need to follow some basic rules designed to keep him safe, continue to comply with his treatments and not travel too far away. Castiel had promised that although it wouldn’t be easy, especially at first, it would be worth it in the end, he just needed to give him permission.  _

_ But now that decision had been made for him. Sam had signed him over and given his blessing. He had supremely fucked up and although not officially mated, Castiel was still going to do everything in his power and whatever he felt was necessary to fix this, fix him.  _

_ He knew he should be angry, should feel manipulated and betrayed, but instead he just felt like a failure, so broken and damaged he couldn’t even look after himself, let alone the little brother he had promised to protect. The doctors and social workers were right, he needed someone else to take control. He needed Castiel to fix what he had broken.  _

_ And he supposed, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had made a choice. When he asked Sam to drive to Castiel’s house instead of a hospital, he had known that this time it would be the final time. That this time it would mean giving up everything. And though he doubted he’d ever be able to admit it to anyone else, he was relieved. Relieved that he finally could give up, stop fighting so hard to be everything and nothing all at once, it felt right somehow.  _

_ There had always been a strange sort of inevitability to it all, how no matter which roads he chose to drive down or the distances he travelled, when he felt himself growing tired or lonely, he would always somehow find himself turning into the long drive up to Castiel’s front door.  _

_ This felt like that too, like he’d been on a long and tiring journey, but he was finally turning into the right road. The one that would lead him home. ] _

  
  


***

“I hope you are feeling a bit better,” Castiel bent over to place the palm of his hand on Dean’s forehead, “Your fever has gone down nicely.”

"uh.. I am actually " Dean stretched out experimentally and was pleased to realise that nothing currently was screaming out in agony. Sure the tube in his dick was really uncomfortable and no one liked a needle in their arm, but considering that less than a day ago he had been sick enough that he half expected to see him Death waiting by his bed, he was feeling pretty good in comparison. 

Too good actually. He gave the IV bag a suspicious glance.

"What'd you dose me with? I haven't felt this good in… actually I don't know when I last felt this good," he's trying to think back... years maybe?

"Not much. Mostly you'll be feeling better because you're no longer chronically dehydrated and there is less pressure on your body’s digestive systems right now. I gave you IV nutrition and saline which I'm sure has helped with your energy levels as well as vitamin and mineral deficiencies. Also some low dose pain relief. Nothing strong I assure you, but enough to take the edge off. 

However, I will be starting you on your new medication regimen tomorrow. I'll go over each medication with you then as well as the schedule and dosage you'll be receiving. But for today, I just want you to relax. Focus on recovering your strength. Do you think you can eat?"

Dean thought for a moment, debating whether he should press Castiel about the medications. That Castiel no longer hesitated when he talked about treatments or medications and had made the decision to give Dean pain relief without consulting him or Sam, even though he knew Dean hated the feeling it left him with. Castiel now spoke with firm finality as if the decision was already made and out of Dean’s hands, which he supposed it now was. He could tell that something had fundamentally changed between them and in their relationship. 

He felt too tired to fight about it anyway. 

"Maybe?” he tried to figure out if the emptiness he felt was hunger, “I can try. Make sure it's pretty soft though or liquid. I um…." He knew it was pointless lying when the evidence would be pretty obvious anyway if it all came back up, "I haven't been able to keep solid food down for a little over a month now," he admitted ashamed. 

Cas just nodded, like he was expecting that answer, but pleased that Dean was willing to eat anyway. He picked the phone up off the wall by the bed, he held it out for Dean so he could see the back where it was labelled with a series of numbers and words. 

"You won’t be left alone, but just in case you need or want anything, for the kitchen Dial 112, my phone is 100, Benny’s is 102, my assistant's is 101, security is 111, Sam's room is 124, your room will be 125. But it's all written here on the back of the phone if you forget." 

"Uh thanks for that, but is there any chance of you giving me my actual phone?” 

“None,” Castiel fixed him with a hard, assessing look, “It’s not healthy for you to have access to it right now. If you want to call someone you can use this phone or if you need distraction, I can bring you something to read or music to listen to instead. ” 

Dean thinks that statement through and decides that Castiel is right, he’s too tired to deal with the internet or the rest of the world right now. He just wants to sleep anyway, but something else occurs to him, “Those aren’t the room numbers we had before. Have they changed?" 

Castiel shakes his head, "As you and Sam will now be living here on a longer-term basis your things have been moved from the guest wing to more permanent rooms. Sam has selected a set of rooms that look out over the western gardens, but due the need to have you nearer these clinical rooms, your belongings and my own have been moved into the rooms directly above us. There is an elevator from the clinic to our private wing just outside this door. Once you've recovered enough to be transported up to our rooms, I'll show you around," 

Dean tried to get his head around the fact that Castiel had planned this to the point of arranging for rooms above his clinic and private elevator. He didn’t know what to think about it all. 

  
  


***

Castiel decided it was probably better to let the topic of the new sleeping arrangements rest until Dean had a chance to get used to the idea. 

Instead turned the phone back over, dialed 112 and listened for the click.

Joe, his chef, picked up almost immediately, "Hi, yeah. He's going to try eating.” Cas was pleased Dean was willing to try to eat something, it was important that he keep trying even if his diet for the moment was extremely restricted, “Please send over something easy to digest, preferably liquids." 

Cas hung up the phone, "He said he'd heat up some soup and also send up some chocolate mousse. Apparently he's under the impression you have a sweet tooth." 

Dean smiled a little, Joe always made sure he had something sweet prepared for Dean when he visited, he was constantly trying to fatten him up. 

"You have no idea how much I miss being able to eat that man's pies. Best I've ever tasted," Dean’s expression turned a little darker, a little sad at what he’d lost. 

Cas took his hand, careful not to disturb the cannula, "You will eat them again, I promise," 

Dean almost looked hopeful for a moment, but soon the clouds rolled back across his expression, " Better not to promise things like that Cas. If I've learnt anything about this messed up body of mine, shit just keeps getting worse and worse, nothing ever gets better." He shrugs, obviously long ago coming to accept this as truth. 

"It might take a little while, and it won't be easy. But you will be back to eating that sort of food eventually. I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," Cas smiled, confident and sure. 

"Whatever you say, you're the doctor," Dean doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't argue, "What's your plan anyway? Now that you're in charge." Now he does sound a little nervous, and a little upset. He was still too exhausted and sick to really put up much of a fight, about it, but Cas knew it would be coming eventually. 

"Right now, I'm just focusing on getting you stabilized.” Dean didn’t look too upset about that so Castiel decided to continue, hoping Dean might be willing to actually listen for once ‘You're significantly underweight and malnourished. You've been chronically dehydrated for months, if not years. And your blood results suggest you're anaemic and hormone imbalanced. You're too sick to do any invasive tests or investigate much else right now, but I will be looking to start you on some stabilisation medications in the meantime. You'll also need to begin refeeding, so a nasogastric tube will probably be necessary." 

"That's not… uh,... shit… that sounds about right actually" Dean lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "I messed up pretty bad, didn't I?" 

Cas sighed, while Dean had let things get pretty bad, he also wasn't fully at fault, his family and the whole system had failed him, but he knew that Dean didn’t see it that way. 

"Dean…" he waited till Dean's eyes opened to meet his, "I want you to listen carefully for a moment. Can you do that?" 

"Yeah, I'm listening. Go ahead." He rolls his head to face Castiel, but doesn't lift it up off the pillow. He looks exhausted. 

"You didn't do anything wrong. You just expected your body to cope in the same way that other people's bodies do. It's natural to expect it would. But it's just that your body doesn’t work like other people's bodies.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, “Well, It can’t do much of anything right now,”

“I know it’s hard, but first you’ll need to give yourself time to sleep and to heal.”

“Then what? Because in my experience it’s just getting worse and no amount of bed rest is going to fix that,”

“No, you’re right. The actual treatments for your condition is quite the opposite. We’ll need to use some quite specific devices and techniques to retrain your body to operate in the way it's supposed to. It will require some intensive work, some of which I’m afraid won’t be particularly pleasant. But I know that with proper treatment life will get whole hell of a lot better and easier for you, I promise" 

Dean closes his eyes again, but nods, his voice sounds tired, like he's losing the fight for consciousness already, "Okay, if you say so…. Just gonna shut my eyes for a moment," 

"That's ok, you rest. Food will be here soon," Cas promises, but Dean's already sound asleep. 

Castiel picked up the phone, "Don't bother sending the food up after all, Dean's out again. ‘But is Benny there? Can you ask him to head over please, I'll need him to help with Dean’s feeding tube." 

*** 

Dean didn't stir once during the insertion of the nasogastric feeding tube. Not when Benny took a hold of his head and repositioned it for the tube to be inserted. Not even when Castiel pushed it past the back of his mouth and he'd gagged slightly in his sleep, but otherwise remained quiet and still. 

Benny had massaged his throat to help the tube slide down, and then once Castiel had aspirated to check it for correct placement, had affixed it to Dean's cheek with a long strip of tape. 

"He know this is going in? Or is he gonna wake up to a surprise?" Benny asked, not looking forward to that particular freak out. 

"I told him, but I'm not sure he'll remember that tomorrow. He seemed a little out of it still," Cas knows that Dean will probably need to have key information explained several times before he's likely to remember it all. His exhaustion and malnutrition still affect his cognitive processes quite significantly. He's going to need a chance to catch up on sleep, adequate nutrition and a whole lot of other care needs before he'll be anywhere near to properly lucid. 

"You get a chance to examine him properly yet?"

"No, he's barely been awake for more than a couple of minutes at a time. I need to do a full examination as soon as possible but I'll need both you and Sam’s assistance if I’m to have even half a chance of making it through. Sam is catching up on sleep himself right now, which he needs almost as much as Dean does," 

"Tomorrow then?" 

"It'll have to be. I'm sure Dean's horribly constipated, and it can't be comfortable having that must pressure built up inside him. But I just can't bring myself to wake him up for that. There are just so many things I need to do, it's hard to know where to start." 

Benny smiled, cheerful as ever. "How about getting some sleep yourself? Dean and Sam are here now, exactly where they belong. They're both safe, secure and doing exactly what's best for them right now, which is sleeping. I'll watch over Dean until Balthazar arrives to take over and you can worry about all this in the morning. I'll make sure to brief him and have him wake you if anything changes." 

Benny knows he's right, as always. He can keep watch for a while. And Balthazar, Dean's night shift nurse, can take over after that. 

Castiel can already feel the adrenaline from Dean's arrival and the fatigue of months of waiting for things to all fall apart, finally catching up with him. He needs to sleep too if he’s going to get through the next few days, sanity intact. 

He nods, and after setting up Dean's nighttime feeding machine to very slowly ease food down into his stomach, wanders over to the elevator to head up and collapse in his own room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warnings: feeding tubes, medication use,


	5. Chapter 5

Dean has a sore throat and an uncomfortably full feeling in his stomach. He groans, and tries to shift, hoping a new position might help with the discomfort. 

"Hey now," says an unfamiliar voice, "Don't move too much, you'll pull your tubes out," 

Dean startles, suddenly wide awake and alert. He sits up, instinctively trying to get away from the stranger watching him sleep. 

"Hey, no. Dean. It's ok. I'm Balthazar, but my friends call me Bal. I'm your night nurse." The man holds his hands up, palms open, "No need to freak out. I've already texted Cas, he's on his way down."

Dean still eyes him suspiciously, uncomfortable and ready to act, he can't help looking around for possible weapons. If the man is lying, then Dean can see at least seven ways to disable him before he can even get across the bed.

But Cas arrives before he gets the chance to find even more, or act on them. He runs into the room, looking both completely dishevelled and utterly in control somehow at the same time. 

"Dean, this is Balthazar. As I'm sure he's already told you, he's going to be your night nurse from now on. He'll be in charge of monitoring you while you sleep. Sorry, I didn't get the chance to introduce you yesterday, I didn't want to wake you just for that." 

Dean is already feeling his pulse slowing, his breath evening out. But his hands keep shaking. He clenches them into fists to hide it. 

"I don't need someone watching me sleep, and I especially don't need some night nurse. I've managed to sleep just fine alone all my life." 

Cas gives him an unimpressed look,"You certainly do need night time supervision. And anyway, you have slept with someone in the room with you your entire life. Whether it was John or Sam, you are more than used to it by now." 

Dean grumbles and curses slightly under his breath, and Cas can just hear the mumbled words not the same thing. But he doesn't push the issue so Cas also lets it go. 

"My stomach feels strange, too full, it's really uncomfortable. And my throat hurts. What's up with that?" 

"Do you remember that I told you last night that I would probably need to give you supplementary feeding with a nasogastric tube?" 

Dean nods, "Ah, yeah, vaguely" 

"You fell asleep before you could eat dinner last night, so I inserted a tube into your nose and down to your stomach, and fed you that way. You needed the calories," 

"Oh, right. Shit. That's… it feels really weird," Dean reaches up and goes to touch the tube, but Cas leans over and moves his hand away.

"I'm going to have to insist that you don't touch it. That's going to be your first rule actually, no touching any of your medical devices. I know it's tempting to fiddle with them, but I would hate to see you hurt yourself. This tube for example, you can easily dislodge it and I'd just to have to insert it again. If you'd like, I can supply a hand mirror so you take a look at it instead." 

"I'm, yeah ok. Thanks," Dean seems shocked, "Can't believe you're giving me rules already, not even one day owning my contract." 

"You know you need them." Castiel reminds him gently, "Rules settle you and give you structure. You know you feel better when you have clear rules and expectations."

"That doesn't…I mean...loads of other people like rules," Dean grumbles. 

"Yes, many people do like them. But your psychological profile means that you need them. In your last dynamic assessment, you registered at the very high end of the 'submissive' scale, and extremely high scores on the 'obedience' and 'structure reliant' subscales. It's one of the reasons why you were registered for permanent guardianship, rather than aging out at the usual age of 25." 

"Yeah, that's what the docs always told Dad. Give him rules. He likes being obedient." Dean's sarcastically laughs a little, but it's bitter, and a bit angry sounding, halfway to a growl or a sob. 

"They weren't wrong," Cas tells him gently, "They just forgot to mention that safety comes first, and trust. You should never have to follow a rule that makes you feel unsafe, and you should never have to obey someone you don't trust," he can't help but reach out, and place his hand on Dean's cheek, "I promise you, you are safe here. But if there is ever a time when it's truly unsafe for you to follow any of my rules, you have my universal approval to disregard that rule until such time that it is again safe to follow it. And as for trust, well, all I can promise you is that, I will constantly strive to earn and maintain your trust. I can't promise that everything I do you will agree with, but I can promise you that it will always be with your best interests in mind. I promise that everything I do will be to help you." 

Cas wipes his thumb under each of Dean's eyes, brushing away the tears. Dean nods, and looks away, down at his hands curled in his lap. 

"Thank you," 

"Always," Cas promises. 

***

They're quiet for a moment. But it's soon broken by the arrival of Sam, already dressed and obviously having been out for a run in the pre-dawn hours.

"Good morning," Sam greets them both, "How did you sleep?" He directed towards Dean. 

"Like a log apparently," Dean laughed, pleased to have managed, for the first time in months, to sleep through the night, "This guy even managed to shove a giant tube up my nose and down my throat without me even waking once!" 

"It doesn't look so big," Sam shrugged, peering at the slim tube currently taped across Dean's cheek. 

"Sure feels like it, with the way my stomach feels like it's about to fucking burst right now." Dean groans and presses on his own abdomen, to highlight the point. 

Cas turns the feeding pump around so he can check the flow rate. It's been set extremely slowly, barely more than a drip feed. He frowns and fiddles with the tube and bag, checking that there wasn't an issue with either. But everything is correct. The problem was obviously with Dean's stomach. 

"It's already on the slowest setting. This slow and it should barely be registering in your stomach at all." He informs them, concern clear in his voice. 

"Please, tell me it's not still pumping more into me. I'm not sure I can take any more!" Dean reaches forward, intent on shutting the machine off himself. 

But Cas catches his hand, and aborts the gesture, holding Dean's hand firmly in his own, "What's your first rule?" 

"No touching any of my medical devices," 

"Right, so this," he gestures to the pump, "is off limits." 

Dean groans but pulls his hand back and places in his lap, "Fine. But can you please turn it off? It's too much already." 

Cas considers his options. If he turns it off it'll give Dean's stomach time to digest what he had already consumed, which isn't much, and certainly nowhere near enough for his caloric requirements. But if he leaves the pump running, Dean will continue to experience significant discomfort, which would only increase as the bag was slowly fed in into his stomach,l over the course not the day, but he would achieve the necessary calorie intake. He knows that Dean isn't exaggerating, either. His stomach genuinely hurt, both as a result of his condition, but also due to his reluctance to eat or drink anything more than a mouthful or two at a time for months now. His body just wasn't used to receiving normal quantities of food anymore. 

The only way to increase Dean's stomach capacity was to gradually increase the size of the meals he consumed. To stretch it until it returned to a more normal capacity. He hadn't planned on beginning this process so soon, this rate of feed should have been nowhere near what he expected would cause Dean this level of distress. But that only served to highlight the severe need to begin treatment. He made up his mind. 

"I'm sorry, but your body needs the nutrients. I can't turn the machine off."

Dean starts to protest, but Cas takes one of Dean's hands, the one which had tried to touch the pump. 

"I know it's uncomfortable. But I can promise you that it's not actually damaging you and that you aren't actually full. Your stomach is sending you false signals because it's been so empty lately that it doesn't recognise anymore when it truly is full. The only way to fix that is to fill it back up again and let it learn what it's like to be full. Once it's done that, then we'll be able to work on helping you increase it. You want to eat proper meals again don't you? Remember our conversation last night about Joe's pie? Just remember, this is what we're working towards. That once we get through this, you'll be able to have pie, and burgers and anything else you want to eat." 

Castiel can tell that Dean's thinking it through. Sorting out the logical truth from his own emotional and physical response to it. He's currently physically extremely uncomfortable, and by agreeing, he knows he's going to be responsible for setting himself up for even worse. But he also realises that it's something he's just going to have to accept. 

Cas can see the moment Dean comes to this realisation that the tube is going to need to stay. And that eventually the flow rate will need to be increased. Cas can see the moment he understands that it's not going to just be just for today, or this week, or even this month. That he'll be agreeing to months of this feeling of overfullness, of discomfort, and he just can't make himself agree that, it's too hard. He can't bring himself to say it, even though he knows he must, that he needs this. 

Sam can see it too, the moment Dean tried and failed to say he agreed. He looks to Cas desperately, unsure what to do about it, wanting so badly to help his brother. 

"It's ok," Cas reassures them both, "You don't have to decide. I know it's too hard right now, so I'm going to make the choice for you. The tube is going to stay in. You'll be sitting in Joe's kitchen eating pie again in no time, I promise." 

Dean leans forward, wrapping his arms around his belly and just breathes. Rough gasping breaths in, and ragged shaky breaths out. 

Sam climbs up on the mattress with him, pulling his brother into his arms. "It's going to be ok, you'll see."

"Fuck," Dean bites out bitterly, "It's not going to be ok, not anytime soon. You and I both know this is just the start. That this shitshow is going to last the rest of my God Damn Life. " 

He sounds so angry, so utterly pissed off at everything and everyone, that Castiel feels his resolve cracking, Can he really do this to Dean? Does he have the resolve? This is just the first of dozens of treatments he has planned, long painful procedures he'll need to inflict upon Dean. He's suddenly not sure if he has the strength either, he starts to take a shaky step backwards planning to escape what now feels like a suddenly much smaller room. 

But a hand, grasping firmly for his own, stops him before he can even take a single step. Dean has reached out and taken his hand, holding tightly, desperately for comfort and the strength to deal with what's to come. He's agreeing, Cas realises, he can't tell him, but he's holding him to his word anyway. Keeping him with them both. Cas had promised to fix him, to get him well enough to enjoy normal life again. 

Cas took a breath and covered the hand with his other, raising both to his lips and kissing the back of his palm. _I always keep my promises._

"""""

Later that day Dean was angry, again.

He felt like his emotions were on some sort of rollercoaster, or children's Ferris ride. He could feel himself swinging wildly between anger and appreciation, between relief and resentment. And he didn't know how to control it. One minute he was fine, joking and chatting with Benny and the next he was in his arms begging and sobbing. Then Cas would come into the room and he'd find himself screaming and throwing whatever he could get his hands on. He was so angry and sore, he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't stop himself blaming Castiel. 

He'd even forgotten his first and currently only rule, and yanked at the tubes, instinctively wanting the things out, _Out_ , OUT! 

That last stunt had earned him a set of medical mitts fastened kindly but securely over his hand. Cas had reminded him gently of his first rule, and that breaking rules had consequences as he pulled them over his hands and locked them at the wrists. The next time would be medical restraints Cas told him, not unkindly. 

He'd huffed, but also tucked his mitted hands under his armpits, pressing down on the warm, thick fabric every time he started to feel overwhelmed. _Rules are there for a reason, breaking rules have consequences,_ he reminded himself, almost like a mantra. He felt a bit more settled after that, a bit safer. 

Later in the afternoon, after Dean had tried and failed to nap, his stomach was feeling increasingly painful and sore, Castiel arrived carrying an unusual item of clothing. It was a bit like a vest, but the velcro fastened down the sides rather than the front. And it was really heavy, but in a reassuring way, giving consistent weight and pressure all over his shoulders, back and chest. The only place it wasn't weighed was around his belly, which Dean was thankful for, as he didn't think he could stand anything pressing much on him there. Instead, it had a giant pocket at the front and inside the pocket Castiel slipped a heat pack just the right size to fit snugly over his sore stomach.

Cas helped him put the vest on properly. Lowering it down over Dean's head and positioning the velcro sides correctly. He felt tired almost immediately, the warmth and the weight combining to somehow settle his body and his mind, it felt amazing, like a hug. He knew he should feel resentful. It was obviously custom made, providing more evidence that Castiel planned for all this. He had measured and ordered the vest in preparation for the pain he was currently forcing Dean to endure. Dean should be furious.

But he just wasn't. Instead, he felt strangely touched. That Cas had acted so far in advance as to order such a specific item was oddly reassuring. He could almost imagine it, Cas sitting down it plan it all out, his laptop open, scouring medical websites for just the right items. He knew Castiel used organisation and planning as a way to deal with his own anxiety and stress, just as he knew he was the cause much of that stress. Castiel had begged him time and time again to allow him to treat him properly, warned him that he was moving closer and closer to real injury, that he was running out of time but Dean had always refused. He allowed the check-ups to keep Sam off his back, but that was it and Castiel knew it wasn't enough. He knew this day was coming and what he was going to have to do to make Dean comply, what he was going to make him endure. Dean should have hated him for it, but somehow he didn't. Somehow amid all the anger and betrayal ranging through him, Dean just couldn't bring himself to hate him.

Castiel was settling in beside him, pulling up his tablet to check some readout or other. Dean wanted to talk to him, to ask him what he had planned. But he was just too tired all of a sudden, the weight and the warmth finally allowing his body to calm, and before he even realised it, he was soundly asleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


Castiel watched his bondmate sleep, better now that he wore the weighted vest. He still shifted though, using his mitted hands to press and hold his uncomfortable stomach, but at least he was getting some rest. 

Cas had replaced the heat pack an hour or so earlier, careful not to wake the exhausted man, and that had helped settle him somewhat. He was tempted to dose him with a mild sedative through his IV but decided against it. His body was already working hard enough, Cas didn’t want to add any additional medications unless they were necessary. 

His body was fighting back from the edge of failure and gotten so close to serious, even permanent damage. Cas didn’t even want to think about that, but knew he had to do Dean's full examination soon, just to be sure. 

He'd done several basic check-ups on Dean already, taken blood and urine samples and thankfully eveything indicated that overall he was recovering nicely. However, he hadn't had a chance to do a full examination of the areas that were most problematic for Dean. There was no getting around the fact that there might be major issues that he was missing. He just hadn’t wanted to put Dean through yet another traumatic experience so soon. 

But there was something he needed to treat urgently first and Dean really wasn’t going to like it. 

  
  


***

Cas made his way to the treatment room. 

It was just off to the side of the main clinic, down a short corridor and easily accessible by both the elevator and the bedrooms above. It was originally conceived as an artist's studio annex by the previous owner of the property but until recently Castiel had used it as storage. But it was a beautiful space, with bright, wall-length windows looking out across the private gardens and forest at the back of his property. It already had a generous bathroom, kitchen and large living space, when Castiel had decided to renovate it so it was a perfect place for Dean to have his treatments away from the main clinic. 

On days he worked, Castiel normally saw between 10 and 12 patients. So his clinic could become quite noisy and crowded at times, with various patients and their families coming in over the course of the day. Some of Dean's upcoming treatments would require him to spend long stretches of time hooked up to monitoring devices and other machines, all of which would necessitate individual supervision and ongoing care which his nurses would provide. He wanted Dean to have a place for this, away from it all, where he didn't feel exposed to the other patients, where he could relax in private and know that he was safe. 

He'd tried to make the room as pleasant as possible, with warm colours and comfortable, soft furnishings throughout, including several sofas, rugs, blankets, cushions among other soft furnishings. There was also a recovery bed, disguised as a day-bed by the window, which would allow Dean to rest between treatments. Quite different from normal clinical rooms, but it was designed to be.

It was still obviously a medical space, as it was full of medical cabinets holding supplies, machines, monitors were mounted on the walls, and you couldn't miss the treatment chair, or the surgical table, both of which were in the back of the space and separated off from the main room to keep them sanitary. Unfortunately, those pieces of furniture were not optional, but at least it didn't feel entirely clinical either. 

He hadn't shown Dean the space yet, not wanting to concern him with it until it was necessary. He knew it was going to be a lot for him to handle, but he was going to have to get his head around it eventually. Now was a good a time as any. 

Benny was already there, prepping the treatment chair. It was the main setup they would be using for many of Dean's future treatments and examinations. Cas had it custom designed, just for Dean, built to fit his specific measurements and needs, to be as comfortable as possible, as he would be spending many, many hours supported by its frame. 

It wasn't an ordinary chair, sort of like a combined birthing and dentist's chair. With each thigh supported separately to allow them to be held open in various different configurations, with stirrups for his feet and ankles. The lower back also had it's own supportive pad, with ended just above his tailbone, leaving ample room for access to both his anal and vaginal passages. The chair also featured a complex sort of headrest, as well as upper back and armrests. All fitted with thick Velcro straps which when fastened securely would easily hold him in place. There were even calf and footrests so the chair can be configured in such a way as to lay him completely flat or completely upright in a standing position, should the need arise. 

Behind and underneath, the chair were various medical apparatus and tools to be used as necessary such as IV poles which could be locked into place, oxygen hoses, enema tubes etc. There was also a row of medical supply cabinets and a sink along the wall beside them. Here the floor was tiled, with drains fitted in several strategic places so Dean could be washed while in the chair and a flushable basin able to be pulled forward from underneath and locked neatly underneath Dean's genitals for enemas and douching as needed. 

The pads of the chair were covered with a special type of foam, medical-grade, waterproof and designed to prevent any sort of pressure or uncomfortable distribution of weight. Even a dental light hung down from the ceiling, ready should the need arise. 

Castiel had made sure he had everything necessary to do the majority of Dean's care right here at home, he aimed to avoid bringing Dean to the hospital as much as possible, he knew that with his background, he found that place extremely traumatic. Dean would be spending many hours here, Castiel wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. 

Benny was fiddling with the enema hoses that he had clipped to the back of the chair in preparation. He double-checked the flow rates of the various different mixtures. They had decided on four different solutions, but were hopeful they wouldn't need all of them. He had a testing kit out and was making sure each had just the right amount of pH and temperature, as well as cleaning solutions or medication. 

"Any idea which ones he'll need, how much or how many?" Benny asked as he finished prepping the last pump. 

Castiel shook his head as he peered at the nozzles critically. They were the smallest diameter available, but he still doubted Dean would find that any comfort. He'd definitely be up for a struggle. "He's had enemas before but he very much dislikes them. He tolerated a small one the last time they visited, but it was a struggle. It's one of the only treatments he would allow, and only then because it made sex between us easier." 

Benny smiles and gives him a knowing look, "I’ve heard you two! That boy wouldn't let anything get between him and a chance to fuck. Especially now that you’re bonded," 

Castiel smiles, but cautions him, “Sam isn’t aware yet and Dean wishes to be the one to tell him. Dean’s not yet ready to address it publicly, so please do not discuss the issue with either of them.”

Benny gives him a sympathetic look, “You gotta know that it’s only hurting him, keeping it secret.” Benny had somehow known immediately that they’d bonded, he’d congratulated Castiel and announced that his smell had changed. Castiel hadn’t been able to deny it, and he admitted, it was nice to have someone to share the secret with. 

“That may be true,” Cas agreed sadly, “but it’s his choice and I’ll honour that. But back to the matter at hand, unfortunately, although he very much enjoys anal penetration and prostate stimulation, he hasn't been able to stand taking more than a single finger width since before I've known him. He's told me in the past that he very much misses it, but it's now too painful for him no matter how much preparation involved. I hope with a full-time dilation schedule and thorough anal and vaginal training to help him once again achieve full penetration in both passages.” He thinks wistfully, how pleased Dean will be once he’s given that option back, he’d seen just how frustrated and disappointed Dean had been each time he’d been unable to achieve it, no matter how much Cas had reassured him that it didn’t matter to him. Dean wanted it for himself. 

"Last time he could barely stand 8 fluid ounces, but unfortunately he'll need to take much more than that today. He's been oral laxative reliant for several years which I hope to wean him off. It might not be too bad. We might not need to do very many," Cas suggested hopefully. 

But Benny gave him a disbelieving look, "As if we'd be so lucky,"

"Hmmm…" Cas agreed. It wasn't likely. 

Sam walked over to them, his eyes heavy with all the late-night reading he'd been doing. He'd asked Cas for some books on submissive and omega care, and Cas could tell he was feeling a little bit better about things now that he wasn't completely out of his depth. 

"When do we wake him?"

"Soon. Benny's just finished checking the equipment. But I wanted to go over quickly what our plan is for this." 

Sam nods, relieved to be able to go over it one more time. Eventually, he'll learn the process, but Castiel makes sure to explain everything carefully so that he'll not be surprised by any of it when they begin.

*** 

Sam and Cas woke Dean up as gently as they could. Rubbing the back of his hand and encouraging him awake. 

"Tired," he grumbles, "Go away," 

"We can't do that sweetheart, you need to wake up. You need a wash and we need to treat that constipation." Cas rubs his back encouragingly. 

"Later," he pulled the covers over himself.

"I know you're tired. You can go back to sleep once you're clean and looked after. We'll even bring you up to your new bedroom afterwards and you can sleep in a real bed tonight. How does that sound?" 

Dean grumbles, but after two days in the clinic and multiple others feeling too sick and exhausted to clean himself properly, he felt pretty gross. 

"Fine, I guess I probably do smell a bit ripe," Dean gives him a slightly crooked smile,

Cas brushed the greasy hair back from his forehead, "Thank you. I promise, you'll feel so much better afterwards," 

Dean struggles to sit up, but mostly fails, instead turning his head to look around the clinic, "You got a shower somewhere nearby?" 

Sam snorts, "As if you could stand up long enough to take one!" 

Dean sends him a withering glare, "I'll manage."

"You won't have to," Cas cuts in, "You're stable enough now to be moved, so we're going to transfer your care to the treatment room. We'll bathe you there." 

"Treatment room?" 

"Oh, yeah...Cas has this whole other room setup perfect for you! He gave me a tour earlier, it's much nicer than in here," Sam provided enthusiastically. 

“Does he now?" Dean glared at Castiel, "How convenient." 

"Let's get you moved," Castiel commented, unwilling to get into an argument over it. 

Sam maneuvered the wheelchair into view and immediately set Dean on edge. 

"What? Why? I can walk!" 

Cas bit back a sigh, _Was nothing ever easy for him_? _Why must everything be so hard!_ If every small thing was going to be such a fight, he didn’t know how Dean was going to cope with it all. He _must be in such mental distress!_ Castiel's heart ached at the thought. 

But then he realised. _Of Course!_

He wanted to mentally kick himself

With all the other medical concerns, he had forgotten to account for one vital aspect, probably the most important one. 

Dean really needed to drop!

He was practically begging to be taken down. No wonder he was fighting for control, challenging everything and everyone. He needed to drop and drop _hard_. 

Dean hadn’t been taken down in weeks, not since their last visit, since he’d refused to let Sam even try. And even then it hasn’t been a proper drop, he’d been too caught up in his own mind, too unsettled to allow himself to fully go down and Cas hadn’t pushed, although he regretted that now. 

He made the decision. This would be the perfect opportunity to care for him dynamically and physically as well as give Sam a chance to learn how to drop Dean when he needed it. Sam needed to learn better techniques for non-sexual submission anyway.

Even though Sam was neutral, he could still guide Dean through a basic, non-sexual drop. He always dropped best when obedience was demanded and body control were removed, particularly when immobilisation and loss of autonomy were involved.

The treatment planned for today was exactly what he needed. 

“You’re in no state to stand let alone walk,” Cas aimed for soothing, “and you need a Drop. You’ve been fighting it since you got here. We’re going to do it now so walking is out anyway.”

Which was the truth, he really was too weak to walk even the short distance to the treatment room, but there were other reasons Cas was insisting on the wheelchair. It made Dean reliant on others to move him and care for him, so it would help him fall. 

“Fuck you,” Dean snarled. But Cas was expecting that; Dean always fought against it initially, especially when he knew Cas was going to push him all the way down, it was really tough for him to just let go. 

Dean had told him once, in the quiet pre-dawn hours, he'd whispered into the darkness a little of his pain. He explained that he had been taught to fight not only his body’s needs but also his mind’s. John, he told Castiel, had detested that his son was an omega, even more so, a submissive. He’s simultaneously abused Dean’s dynamic by demanding obedience from the young sub, while also forcing him to hide and deny his own submissive nature.

Castiel had seen it himself. Through careful mimicry, practice and sheer willpower, Dean could pass a neutral or even a low level dominant. He rarely let the mask slip, even with Sam, who habitually forgot his brother even had a dynamic at all. Sure Sam tried, he did all the things the pamphlets suggested, gave his brother rules, guided him down every few weeks, took him to appointments. The problem was that Dean was so good at hiding it, that Sam couldn’t tell that it wasn’t nearly enough.

Dean needed to go down often and he needed to go down hard. 

Cas had only been able to take Dean down far enough a couple of times, and each time it was obvious what a huge difference it made for him psychologically. It would be hard for Sam to watch, but it was also necessary for him to learn and to understand just why it was necessary. 

“It’s long overdue. I know you struggle to drop, but it's good for you, necessary. You know that” Cas reminded him kindly. He reached under the bed for the bag of restraints he kept there and pulled out the blindfold. 

“No,” Dean practically begged, “I’m not ready,”

Cas expected that too. Dean had always needed to psych himself up for it. Never able to just relax into the feeling, the experience. He loved being down but struggled with the process, with the vulnerability required to let himself fall. 

“Dean,” Sam said firmly, surprising Cas, “Even I know you need this and so do you. Just let Cas take care of you,”

Dean’s eyes raced back and forward between Cas and Sam, indecision and uncertainty. 

“Sam, I … he’s going to want to take me right down. You’ve never seen that. It’s not easy.... It’s not pretty.” Dean can't meet Sam's eyes anymore, he seems nervous, shy even. 

Cas knew he had never let himself fully fall with Sam, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

He would just have to teach Sam and Dean that it would be ok, show them. 

Cas reached over and slid the blindfold over Dean’s eyes, giving him the security and comfort he found in it. Dean started to shake a little through, so he took his mitted hands in his own, hoping the contact might steady him. He couldn't help the rush of concern that flooded him at the thinness of the bones and muscles under his hands. 

“I’ll be in charge the entire time. Sam needs to learn what you need, so when you’re back to hunting again, he can help you better. But that's all I promise. I will be in charge and I’ll explain everything that’s happening for both you and Sam. No more surprises and no more secrets. You’re finished with all that,” 

“I don’t want this,” Dean sounds sad, he’s leaning forward, seeking contact. 

“I know love, but you need it,” He leans his forehead against Dean’s, wishing there was a way to make this easier for him, but knowing it was the right thing to do. He kept both of Dean’s hands grasped in his own and waited, giving Dean time to breathe and think, "I'll guide you down, you just have to let me." 

Permission, when it comes, is small, barely a nod. But it’s there, almost a whisper. “You promise?”

“I promise,”

***

“Easy," Cas settled a hand on his shoulder, pressings him firmly back down. Dean ignored him, reaching for the strap he'd felt Cas pull across his hips and buckle just below the level of the seat, but he couldn't quite reach it. He started to struggle, _Why did he let himself be strapped into that wheelchair?_ He’s changed his mind he decided, _he couldn’t do this after all!_

He was about to say exactly that when he felt something easing its way inside his mouth, he let out a startled grunt, but couldn’t do much else as he felt the plastic push back and settle over his tongue and his teeth, a gag he realised. 

He recognised it. It was one of Cas’s many comfortable, custom gags, made almost like a mouthguard for sport. Dean had a love/hate relationship with this particular gag. 

Cas had sat him down one afternoon in his kitchen and moulded it to fit him exactly. He’d boiled the plastic guards in water and, after letting them cool slightly, had him bite down on them to shape the plastic to his teeth and mouth. There was an opening for breathing and liquids at the front, but otherwise, it fitted completely over his upper and lower teeth and his tongue. He could still remember the feeling of Cas's fingers moulding and shaping the plastic inside his mouth. Holding his chin while he slid his fingers along the gumline and deep into his throat, testing the depth and fit over his tongue. It's a comforting memory.

At first, he’d refused to wear it, claiming it made him claustrophobic, but Cas had been patient, allowing him to pull it out for a few minutes each time he needed a break before he’d push it back in again. Eventually, Dean had grown used to it, even if he still didn’t really like how completely it filled his mouth and made it impossible to speak or refuse to swallow when Cas slid the tube for liquids through the opening. Which he did fairly often when he thought Dean needed the hydration or the calories; several of their scenes in fact had been exactly that. Actually, many of their scenes were unusually domestic. Dean didn’t know what to think or how to feel about that, but he suspected that he liked the casually controlling way Castiel sometimes took over such basic everyday tasks like eating and brushing his teeth, but he refused to follow the thought any further. 

He felt the simple single velcro strap fastened behind his head. It came with several options for securing it, from a simple velcro elastic behind his head to a complex set of padded buckles and straps, to even leaving it simply pushed into Dean’s mouth with nothing else. Due to the complex way it fitted over his teeth and tongue, it was actually almost impossible to remove without using his fingers to pull it out. So sometimes Cas just left it like that and immobilised his hands or arms instead. Sometimes it was just a verbal command. Either way, without the straps holding it in, it was actually quite subtle, with the thicker part of the plastic only between his teeth, and Dean was able to close his lips over it and look mostly normal. He found that quite off-putting too, knowing Cas had the ability to gag him, even when no one could see it. 

But, as usual, he felt it settle him too. The inability to speak meant he could relax. He didn’t need to worry anymore about trying to form words because it was no longer possible. Cas almost always used a gag and frequently other forms of restraints too, they allowed him to stop fighting it, when he knew it was futile anyway.

He felt his breath start to slow down a bit as he was forced to push it through the plastic opening, it was nice in a way to have something to focus his breathing on. 

“That’s good,” Cas encouraged. Dean could hear that his voice was nearby, probably kneeling in front of him, he can feel his hands push up to rest, one on his sternum and the other on his cheek, “Keep breathing just like that. I’m going to explain what’s happening now for Sam alright? Just like I promised. You just keep breathing nice and relaxed.” 

Dean nods, feeling his cheek blush red with embarrassment but unable to argue, he can’t believe he’d agreed to this.

“The gag helps him relax,” Cas explains, as he stands back up he places a small white ball in Dean’s still mitten covered hand, “Removing his ability to speak is one less thing he has to struggle against. The ball is to let us know if anything’s wrong, he’ll drop it if he needs a break or to stop,” Dean grasps it tightly. 

He can hear his IV, other tubes and monitors each being undone and clipped to the new pole on his wheelchair and then it starts to move. Dean can tell that it’s Cas pushing it now as his voice is coming from behind him. 

“I’m considering whether he would respond to a longer-term form of oral restraint. Maybe something he can click over his teeth to hold his tongue down, but can still eat and drink easily. So long as it wasn’t visible to others, he might like wearing it when he’s feeling anxious or stressed.” Cas ponders aloud to Sam as he walks them all out the door and down the corridor. 

“He might like that when we're back to hunting,” Sam provides, “Especially at night, when he’s missing you.” 

“Hmmm,” Cas agrees, "I might organise a dental appointment and see what can be made for him." 

Dean tries not to freak out at that terrifying prospect. 

He can hear a door opening and closing, then the texture of the floor changes from cement to what he thinks is carpet then to tiles. The wheelchair comes to a stop and Dean can hear the wheels being locked. He hears someone walk over towards them and stiffens at the sound. 

“Hush, Brother.” Benny places a hand on Dean’s shoulder “It’s just me,” and he can feel himself begin to relax again, having Benny around always makes him feel better. Well until he realises that now there will be three people watching this humiliation. He hangs his head, knowing this isn’t his decision to make, but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

“You dropped him?” Somewhere over to the left Benny asks, he sounds surprised. 

“We’re working on it, he’s just starting to go down,” Cas starts running his fingers through his hair and scratching the back of his scalp just the way he likes it, Dean can feel himself melting under the attention, “He needed it, he hasn’t dropped in weeks and was pushing for it. I thought it might be a good opportunity to teach Sam how to fully drop him using non-sexual techniques. When they return to hunting, Sam might need to know how,”

“Fair point, the poor guy always looks ragged after a couple of weeks without a proper drop,” 

Dean wants to argue, but then remembers that he can’t with the gag still firmly installed in his mouth, he bites down instead, working the thick plastic between his teeth. It feels good. 

Cas has gone from scratching his scalp, to rubbing his neck, “Ok, Dean. We’re going to undo the strap across your hips and pick you up now. Just relax.” 

Dean can hear the click of the buckle coming undone, he immediately pushes up, the instinctive urge to stand, to get away from this, the fear is overwhelming. He fights the hands that grab his arms, his chest, his legs, as they pick him up. 

He keeps fighting, instinctively throwing his weight against the movement as they try to move him over. He kicks out, foot colliding with something soft and hears a grunt, from Sammy, he thinks with vague satisfaction. 

“Dean, mate…” Benny tries, but Dean just throws himself sideways, trying to curl his body against them, to force them to let him go. 

"Dean. " Castiel's voice, dominant and clear in its command, “Stop. Fighting. It.”

_Oh that Fucking Asshole! Did he just?..._

Dean’s mind stutters to a halt. 

He goes limp.

All his muscles obeying his bondmate. It was goddamn disconcerting. Terrifying in its immediacy. _No no no!_ He wants to scream, but he can’t, his muscles relaxing and his breath calming with the command. His brain floods with soothing neurochemicals, responding to the command. Ordering him down.

 _Why the fuck does this always feel so_ **_good_ **? 

"Oh shit," Sam gasps, still obviously winded, and struggling to hang on to Dean's suddenly dead weight. “Did you just drop him involuntarily?” 

"Hmmm…" Dean tries to protest, but his body won’t cooperate. 

Cas ignored Sam’s question for the time being, comforting Dean instead, "I know…. I’m sorry…. That’s it... Down you go now dear one...good….” Dean can feel himself falling even further, slipping down into that quiet, comforting space. The soothing encouragement works to ease the way, and it feels so nice, like slipping into a warm bath after a trek through freezing winter winds. He wants to luxuriate in it.

When Dean’s fully settled again, he continues, “I’m sorry I had to do that. But you could have hurt yourself," he leans forward and kisses Dean's forehead as they lever him onto the chair, his body still limp but cooperative. _Fuck you!_ Dean thinks, but there’s no real aggression in it. 

"I've read about that," Sam sounds slightly awestruck, "Never seen it in real life though,"

"It's quite rare, plus it only works on extremely highly rated submissives like Dean with strong Dominants like Castiel," Benny provides but doesn't add that the bond also strengthens the effect.

Dean's feeling a bit floaty, a bit vague, but also mortified. He doesn’t want Sam to _see_ him like this, weak and submitting to it all so easily. But he can’t bring himself to move, his body still happily following Castiel’s command. 

“It’s mainly just a favourite trope of trashy romance novels, which is probably why you’ve even heard of it at all,” Cas sighs, he sounds regretful “But yes, Dean’s susceptible to involuntary drops and obedience commands. Not from just anyone, mind you, but from a strong dominant, someone he trusts, he can be dropped involuntarily. But I generally try not to use it,” 

Dean feels the effect of the command start to wear off, and he goes to move again, stretching out his legs. But he's stopped mid motion and his pushed back down into the chair. He can feel them doing up the straps, more than he can count being fastened around his body, limbs, hands, everyone. _How many does this thing **have**?!?!_. Thicker than he’s ever felt before and more secure. Wide bands of fabric and velcro. The ball is pulled out of his grip, but only long enough to take the mitts off and then it’s back. A kiss pressed to the top of his hand as Cas helps him grip it tightly, before he fastens a strap across his wrist securely. 

The floaty feeling is still building, his mind calming and warm with it. He’s not fully down yet, but the straps help, there is something about knowing you simply can’t move, even if you wanted too. He feels secure, protected somehow.

But he also really wants to curse them all out right about now. 

“I know it’s hard, but you need to allow yourself to keep dropping,” Cas soothes a hand down his chest, resting it on over his heart, “That’s it, sweetheart, keep going.”

Dean can hear Castiel’s voice, guiding him down, it’s unbelievably powerful, like an ocean current dragging him out to sea. It’s been so long and he so desperately wants to go down. He knows it’ll feel so good. But something else deep inside keeps fighting back, keep telling him not to be weak, not to give in, that he’s pathetic for even wanting this. He clenches his hand tighter around the ball. 

He feels Castiel clip a pulse oximeter to his finger and a heart monitor pad to his chest. There are light tugs on his other tubes and monitors as they are fixed into place around him, he tries to ignore the powerless feeling that follows, but it only serves to push him further down. 

“He’s only partially dropped, he’s getting there but it’s a struggle. The straps help, as does the blindfold, but he’s still fighting it,” Cas’s voice sounds too controlled, too careful in his wording.

“Yeah, I remember Dad got someone to teach him how to fight it,” Sam sounds a little sad. “After that, he would punish him if he dropped without permission.”

Cas makes a thoughtful sound but doesn’t comment further. Dean wishes he could look at their faces, see what’s passing between them in the heavy silence that hangs in the air like smoke. 

But then it’s gone and Castiel is picking up each of his feet to place them in the stirrups. 

“Hush,” Benny soothes when Dean goes stiff, “You’ve done this many times before, nothing to be scared of,’

_Easy for you to say!_ Dean wants to tell him, curse him out for the flippancy. _Plenty to be fucking scared about!_

His feet and ankles are fasted into the rests, then a loud click is heard and his legs are forced even further apart as the chair automatically shifts his knees backwards and out. Dean starts to pant, he always feels so vulnerable in this position, but he supposes that's the point. Blindfolded and silent, open and exposed to them all, powerless and forced to endure everything Cas, Sam and Benny decide to do to him. 

Cas folds back the bottom of his hospital gown, and neatly rests it on his stomach before taking his hand, the one without the ball, in his own, “Are you ready to get started?”

Dean doesn’t react. He can’t. But he hears the snap of several pairs of gloves being put on anyway. 

“We’re going to start the first enema. We’ll take it really gradually, first work on relaxing his anal sphincter muscles to allow for entry, then gently insert the tube inside. I’ll set the flow slow to give his body time to accommodate it. He can’t take a high volume yet, so we may have to stick with repeated smaller volume enemas instead,”

_Fuck!_ Dean can’t help the whine that escapes from him, the rush of terror. _Multiple?!_

Cas just smoothes his hand along the inside of his thigh and shushes him, it feels strange, until he realises that it’s the plastic of the glove, making his touch seem more clinical. 

Then feels the liquid, cold press of lube against his hole and he clenches hard, fighting to buck up away from it. But the straps barely let him shift at all, instead he just shakes and trembles. He can feel the press of a finger working the muscle around his sphincter. It feels wonderful, and awful at the same time. 

“That’s it,” Cas encourages, “Relax those muscles and open up for me,”

Dean tries, he really does, working through all the breathing exercises Cas had taught him the many times they’d tried penetration. Then the pelvic floor exercises to tire out the muscles. Cas talks him through each exercise, pressing and working his opening. But in the end, Cas still has to use a little force to push past the resistance and gain entry. Dean’s sweating already and they haven’t even started. He feels the inches of plastic tubing being slid up inside, it's a familiar sort of awful. 

“Now I’ll inflate a small balloon that will put pressure on either side of his opening and keep the liquid inside,” 

Dean wants to turn his head away from them, hide at least this much, but the strap holding his forehead won’t allow it. The pressure starts to build from the balloons, it hurts, aches already and they haven’t even started the flow. He feels like crying with humiliation, but instead, he bites down harder on the mouthguard and grips the ball in his fist. 

“Dean,” Benny gets his attention, “Brother, you gotta relax. You know it only hurts more when you clench up,” He’s pressing, rubbing a soothing hand across Dean’s abdomen. 

Dean knows this, he does. The dozens of these he’s done over the years have taught him that it just hurts more if he resists. But it’s still so hard to tell his body to unclench. 

“Swap places with me,” Castiel instructs Benny, his voice drifting up from between Dean’s spread legs, and he can hear them walking, changing places so Cas is now beside him, touching his neck, his face, kissing his cheek. 

“You can do this….. Just relax, submit to it,” Dean wants to fight it, but the gentleness in his voice is so fond, so affectionate that he can’t help responding, “That it… good. Benny, you can start the enema now,”

At first, Dean can’t feel much of anything, just a slight warmth of the liquid as it begins to flow inside him. It’s calming, soothing, but he knows it won’t last long. Cas shushes him, running his fingers through his hair in just the way he knows Dean likes it. 

But the spasms start almost immediately, even before the feeling of fullness and the stretch that he knows is coming. He can feel his abdominal muscles tensing and releasing as shoots of pain run up his sides. He doesn’t know if it’s psychosomatic or real, but it fucking hurts already. 

He groans around the mouthguard. 

“Already?” Sam asks, sounding worried, “He’s hurting already?”

“Not from the enemas exactly. It’s more the shock to his system. He’s been shut down for so long, barely eating and so dehydrated that it’s throwing his body into spasm. They’ll settle in a minute or two,” 

Dean wants to scream, he feels like his whole body is shaking with it. It hurts...but even more, he feels so powerless, his body betraying his mind. 

He can feel the moment he slips further down into submission, between one gasping breath and the next something inside his mind gives, then resistance falls away. _God!_ Between the pain and the humiliation, it’s agonisingly wonderful. Just to sink into the feeling of Cas brushing his fingers through his hair, whispering gentle words of encouragement and care, to give up everything else and just _feel._

He can’t tell the exact moment he finally falls completely, it’s all a bit hazy, but it feels so good. The pain and the pleasure of obedience, finally easing his chaotic mind. Then there is nothing and everything, just him and Castiel, wide and clear and beautiful, it feels like nothing else ever could, it feels like joy. 

  
  


***

“And he’s down. Fucking finally!” The strain and the relief clear in Benny’s voice, “Jesus, I’ve never seen anyone fight it that hard. Is it like that every time?”

"Yes," Cas nods, looking down at Dean’s finally peaceful face, "Every single time," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Enemas, restraints, hurt/comfort of the physical and emotional kind. 
> 
> As always, Comments keep me writing!!! Please do let me know what you think!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this fic grew *feelings*....

  
  
  
  


Castiel gave into the urge to press his lips to the soft edge of Dean's mouth, not wanting to excite him, just expressing affection, "I love you," he whispers into Dean's ear, quietly so that Sam can't quite catch the words, "Thank you for trusting me," 

“Damn,” Sam draws out the vowel, “that was hard to watch.” 

“Yes,” Castiel agrees, pulling back, but leaving his hand resting along the underneath of Dean's jaw, "But, now that he's down it should go a little easier for everyone. What volume are we at?” He asks Benny. 

“18 fluid ounces” 

“Keep going, but slow the flow a bit.”

Benny nods and lowers the flow speed on the tablet fitted to a mount on the side of the chair. It could be removed and placed anywhere convenient, but for now, it was easiest just to leave it there. They all also had an app on their phones which allowed for the same level of control and provided monitoring data as well.

Dean started to groan, already struggling to manage even that small amount of liquid. But he settled easily enough under Castiel’s reassuring touch. 

The small inflatable 'balloon' style plug snugly fit on both the inside and outside of Dean's anus. It was designed in such a way as to allow the tube to be pushed further inside but not fully removed. The tube slid in easily through a central channel in the plug, but due to a fitting about 2 inches from the end, it couldn't be pulled back completely. In fact, the entire plug was specifically designed to prevent the wearer from removing it without the assistance of another person and the inflation pump could be detached to prevent tampering. Once they'd started Dean on his regular enema schedule, that feature would definitely come in handy. 

Benny took advantage of the clever design to push the tube in a little more, helping the enema formula penetrate even deeper inside. 

"Why are you pushing it in further?" Sam asks, leaning forward to observe Benny's fingers. 

"As we can't fill him up with an adequately large volume, we can use the tube to work the water in as deeply as possible." Benny explains "It's not a comfortable process, but it is necessary." 

Dean let out a quiet whimper at the sensation, his body instinctively trying to back away from the thing invading it. He canted his hips the tiny fraction he could manage, but the straps held firm and secure. He couldn't do anything but accept the penetration, as Benny patiently kept feeding it inside. He took his time, letting the liquid do the work of stretching and filling before pushing in again, and again. Another quarter-inch, then another. The liquid, the slight pressure from the flow opening him up with warm insistence

Sam looks wary, "How far will you push it?" 

"Only as far as Dean's body will allow,” Benny reassures him, “But, we'll repeat this process with each enema, hopefully getting a little bit deeper each time," He continued firmly massaging the edges of Dean's sphincter, encouraging it to relax and stretch. Holding him open with one hand and using the other to feed the long tube in gradually but relentlessly. Another quarter-inch, a half, one, one and a half, two…

Dean can’t quite catch his breath, panting and flush. 

Cas observes his progress carefully, not wanting to push Dean beyond his limits. 

The slick tube draws a wet stripe across Dean’s inner thigh. Each time Dean caught his breath, relaxed even a little, Benny would push it in just that little bit further. He'd check that Dean was still holding tightly to the ball. He was, although his hands were shaking, skin white with the effort, but his expression remained calm and open. Dean could take it, but only just. 

"You're doing great," Benny encouraged, leaning down to read the measurements printed onto the side of the tube. He nodded to Cas, looking pleased with the progress. Wisely, he didn't say it aloud, instead, he kept his fingers pushed tight to Dean’s rim, but stepped back a little so Sam and Cas could see for themselves.

"Wow," Sam commented under his breath, as he saw how far it has gone inside, "that's a lot," 

Cas nodded, “It’s good to see his body is able to take it that deeply, it’s a very positive sign. 

He was pleased and impressed at the length that Benny had managed to ease into him. Although, by necessity the tube was extremely small in diameter and the enema of a comparatively small volume, still, penetration to this depth was definitely progress.

“Just one more push, almost there,"

  
  


_ [ Cas was again reminded of why he hired Benny. It wasn't just because of his medical skills, although those were exceptional, it was the way he instinctively knew exactly what Cas wanted from him and took the initiative to action it. He was confident in his own abilities, but also extremely careful and measured, making sure to reassure and build rapport with all his patients. His professionalism and dedication were beyond reproach. That he and Dean had built such a genuine friendship, all the more reason to trust him with his precious omega. .  _

_ Cas went back whispering soothing encouragement to Dean. Telling him how well he was doing and how proud he was of him. The words might seem repetitious to Sam, but he intended to teach him to do the same. It would be one of the key strategies for guiding him down and of helping him maintain his headspace. Because his brother responded so beautifully to even the mildest reassurances of love and affection. Underneath all the bluster and shame, Dean just desperately wanted to please.  _

_ Castiel’s heart broke a little bit every time he was reminded of the many years Dean had been denied even that small kindness. Of John’s cruelty. In forcing his child to consciously repress and distort entire aspects of his core identity, he’d broken him. Broken his mind and broken his spirit. Dean had ripped his soul apart trying to be what John had wanted, his perfect soldier. But it would never be enough.  _

_ John had broken his child and it was up to Castiel to help him heal. He needed to be taught that he was good and that he was loved. Over and over, as many times as necessary and even more. Castiel would make sure Dean heard the words and internalised the meaning, that he knew that they were true. ]  _

  
  
  


Castiel eased his finger inside Dean's mouth, working it between his cheek and the gag, first one side and then the other, feeling along the plastic for any rough spots and checking for correct positioning. Then he slipped his finger inside the hole at the front, running his fingertip along the inner edges of the mouthguard and over where the plastic secured his tongue, before pushing in to run his finger along the ridge at the back. Dean gagged slightly, but welcomed him anyway, using what little his tongue was able to move, to lap and curl around his finger affectionately. 

"Thank you,” Castiel brushed his thumb across his cheek, “that feels lovely. Is the gag still comfortable to wear?" 

Dean made a contented little grunt which he took as agreement. He seemed to be enjoying the oral attention, so Cas pushed another finger inside and kept them there, rubbing gently over his tongue and occasionally pushing back into his throat just shy of setting off his gag reflex.

Dean had often enjoyed this type of exercise, welcoming the push of Castiel’s fingers or cock into his mouth. It was the only way he was still able to take Castiel’s cock and even then it was only in his mouth, his esophagus too tight for anything deeper. Castiel indulged him often, letting him suck and lick as he pleased, even occasionally allowing Dean to warm his dick as he read or worked. Dean absolutely loved that. But Castiel had to be careful, conscious of not pushing back or letting Dean take him too deeply lest he damage himself. They’d work on it, Cas promised himself, he’d make sure Dean could have that too. 

But just as Benny was about to push in the final section, Dean shook his head. Or at least he tried to. He was prevented by the forehead strap and the fingers in his mouth, Cas’s hand holding his chin securely still. Instead he let out a begging, plaintive "Nnnnnn!" . 

“Just a little more,” Cas told him, using his other hand to wipe away the wetness that had snuck out from under his blindfold, "just relax, Benny will be gentle," 

He worked his fingers back a little deeper, hoping to give him something enjoyable to focus on rather than the painful procedure.

They can see that it had really started to become painful for him. The spasms had settled, but the cramps were building up agonisingly instead. The blindfold now wet with tears, and his grunts and moans almost constant. 

Dean might have been mentally dropped, comforted through submission and obedience, but his body was still in agony. 

Benny smoothly eased in the final length, and locking it securely in place. He smiled, "Well done, brother," patting Dean's inner thigh, " You took that beautifully." 

Dean couldn’t help but respond to the praise. Now that he was properly down, he was finally able to hear and accept it. His cheeks pinking slightly and a contented little sound escaped his lips. 

Cas was amazed.

Despite the discomfort, it was clear that Dean was successfully maintaining his subspace, possibly even dropping further down. Perfectly under, deep into submission and responding beautifully to dominance, it was beautiful to observe. Dean may not like enemas, but beyond the medical necessity, they also seemed to be an effective way to help him maintain headspace. 

Castiel had always intended to use enemas as part of Dean’s therapy. He'd read an excellent study on the use of low volume, but extremely long duration therapeutic enemas to treat Drop-Resistance. In the study, the routine use of the therapeutic retention enemas significantly improved the submissives ability to achieve and maintain healthy headspaces. He was glad to see that the research proving was correct. 

Cas finally tells Benny to stop the flow, just as a major cramp sends Dean’s body ratcheting up against the straps and crying out around the gag involuntarily. Dean's was openly sobbing, but his grip on the ball in his hand is tight as ever, his face peaceful. 

“I know it hurts, but that's the last of it for this one,”Cas soothes, "You’ve taken it so well.” 

Dean whined, but relaxed back a bit, clearly encouraged by Castiel’s words. 

“Set a timer for twenty minutes,” Cas instructs Sam, watching carefully for any concerning changes in Dean's behaviour. He caught a grimace flicker across Dean's face at hearing the duration, but he didn't protest. 

“Ummmm,” Sam draws out the vowel, “isn't that quite long?” he sounds nervous even asking, "I mean, he's already hurting so much…."

“Yes,” Castiel agrees, pulling back, but leaving his hand resting along the underneath of Dean's jaw, fingers still in his mouth, "but it's necessary. It's a small volume, so it needs longer to work. In addition, now that he’s under my care, we will be using retention enemas extensively in his Submissive Dynamic Therapy, so he'll need get used to them," 

“Oh,” Sam replied, still clearly unsure, “right….”

Cas sighs, thinking back to the conversation he’d had with Sam earlier about it. There had been no easy way to break it to him, to explain exactly how messed up his brother really was. And what treating him would actually entail….

  
  
  
  
  


_ [ "What's Submissive Dynamic Therapy?" Sam had sounded genuinely curious. He pointed to the summarised treatment schedule that Castiel had provided for him to read over and ask any questions he might have about it, “It seems like Dean will be doing a lot of that,”  _

_ "Yes, it will be one of his main treatments. SDT is a type of behavioral therapy designed to help stabilise and treat psychological damage associated with dysfunctional dynamics." Cas had talked Dean through the SDT treatment process months ago, hoping that he might be willing to give it a try. But back then, he hadn't been ready to engage and had outright refused to even consider it. So in explaining it to Sam, he choose his words carefully, mindful that he’d need him on board if he was going to get Dean to comply with treatment. It was unlikely Dean would be willing to participate on his own volition, at least at first anyway, as it was clear that the very idea of SDT terrified him. _

_ "Ok, that makes sense. Dean’s Submissive Dynamic is kinda messed up, I’m neutral and even I can see that,“ Sam agrees, sounding a little guilty “it’s good that you’re going to help him with it. How does this SDT work?"  _

_ "It's done a little differently for each person depending on the individual’s needs and diagnosis. Dean has been diagnosed with Drop-Resistance Disorder, DRD for short. So for him, SDT would focus on improving his ability to achieve and maintain healthy subspaces.” _

_ "Oh," Sam sounds a little dismayed at hearing of yet another diagnosis affecting this brother, "I didn't know he had that." He can tell that Sam is trying to be a good brother, trying to understand and support him as best he could.  _

_ "That’s to be expected," Castiel reassures him, "Certainly, Dean would never have told you. I only formally diagnosed him last year, after consulting with a colleague of mine who specialises in Dynamic Disorders. Dean was understandably upset.” Cas tried not to think back to the day he'd had to explain it to Dean. That had led to a particularly rough argument after which he hadn't seen him for over a month. He'd refused to discuss it since.  _

_ “DRD. Can you explain it to me?” Cas doesn't want to go into too much detail as it’s a complex issue, but it’s an important topic that Sam will need to understand eventually. He’ll give him some readings on the topic, but for now, he takes the time to answer his basic questions., however, he also considers his words very carefully.  _

_ “You can look it up in the DSM-5 if you’d like more information, but to give you a simple description, Drop-Resistance Disorder is one of the Dynamic Disorder subtypes. It’s characterised by a marked difficulty achieving and maintaining submissive headspaces due to internalised dynamic dysphoria and the symptoms cause clinically significant distress in the individual.” He sighs, “Basically, it means that Dean's mind is constantly being pulled in opposite directions, both towards and against submission. Due to early experiences of trauma, he has developed dysfunctional cognitions and dynamic processes, including subconsciously associating submissiveness with worthlessness. He has extreme difficulty achieving and maintaining a submissive drop, so it's incredibly exhausting for him. As his mind is in continuous conflict with itself, it’s also psychologically traumatic for him to drop, so unfortunately, he fights it.” _

__

_ “No wonder…” Sam is quiet for a moment, processing the information, “God, Dad really did a number on him, didn’t he?.” He rubs his hand over his face, “How do you treat it?"  _

_ "Through a strict schedule of guided therapeutic drops and behavioural retraining using SDT techniques. Dean will be guided through at least five full deep drops each week as well as three to four partial or shallow drops each day. This will be accompanied by a range of retraining techniques and exercises designed to help him develop a healthier subspace and relationship to submission. But ss currently he's used to weeks or even months between drops, he may not accept the necessity of it, and particularly at first, he is going to find it extremely difficult and tiring. He will probably fight it, but it’s essential that the routine is maintained for the treatment to be successful," _

_ “Oh, he’s definitely going to fight it,” Sam adds slightly amused, but it’s a bitter sort of gallows humour, his voice holds only worry and affection.  _

_ "As I said, it's not an easy process. To be successful it will require significant commitment and engagement from everyone involved, including you and all the staff here. He will need to be assisted by everyone to both achieve and maintain his submissive headspace, and until he grows used to the routine, at times he may be quite reluctant. But if we do this right, eventually he will stabilize and it will all become easier and healthier,” Castiel tries to sound reassuring, but even he is not looking forward to the hard months ahead. They will all have to work together to take him down and keep him there, day after day, week after week. But he’s always so much happier and healthier after a long, deep drop and he always enjoys it once he’s finally down.  _

_ Cas is determined to make sure Dean will, at least, get the chance to finally relax and finally heal, and hopefully, with enough time down, he might even learn to look forward to it.  _

_ "Well, you'll have my support. He deserves to get better." _

_ "Thank you Sam, I appreciate it and I'm sure Dean will too eventually," _

_ Sam looks doubtful, but nods anyway, resolved in his decision. ] _

  
  
  


For the moment, Cas could see that Dean was focussed entirely on the fingers in his mouth, the fullness in his guts and the breathing exercises he'd been taught to deal with the pain. He'd not paid much attention to their conversation as the cramping had continued unabated. 

In sympathy Castiel relented a little and unclipped the forehead strap. That way Dean was able to seek the comfort and contact he needed more readily and Castiel wanted to allow it. Turning his cheek into Castiel's hand and scenting his wrist, a momentary, hidden look of contentment ghosted across his face. But, It was soon chased away by the next cramp, and replaced with an angry snarl. Cas was pleased to see the smile's appearance, however fleeting. 

Dean was responding as he had hoped he might, the loss of control, immobility and discomfort combining with his desperate need to submit and be reassured, to help him relax into it, deep dropping was always so cathartic for him. Castiel just hoped it would come easier for him in the future. 

He slid his free hand down over Dean's chest and stomach, moving lower until he was resting his palm on his abdomen, which pressed on firmly. He could feel that Dean was sore there, his muscles holding the tension, the skin fever hot. He couldn't feel anything of the fullness that would normally be expected during an enema, but Dean could hold so little that it didn't even make the slightest bulge. In fact, the whole area was still concave, his recent weight loss only adding to the issue Cas observed sadly. It would take some serious work to force Dean back up to a healthy weight. 

Cas felt along the edge of his pelvic bones, fingers tracing the sharp jut of his hip and down to where his thighs were forced back up and wide open by the stirrups. Let his hand slip around Dean's thighs, gorgeous even though they were thinner than he was happy with, and pushed inwards, downwards. He gave one last push of his fingers into Dean’s welcoming mouth and slipped them free, much to Dean’s displeasure. 

“It’s ok, I’m still here. Just moving back around,” he reassured him. 

Benny moved out of the way to give Castiel access, as he took the position between Dean's legs, careful to maintain precious contact with skin. 

He examined Dean's clit gently, careful not to provide too much pressure, before slipping his fingertips further down to feel along the inner folds below. Dean was wet and desperately aroused, swollen and sensitive. He used what little traction he could get to press back against Castiel's fingers, inviting him inside, wanting it desperately. And Castiel for his part, longed to do just that. To slip his fingers inward, allowing himself to slide the inch or so over to open Dean's vaginal passage and push inside. God how he wanted it!

But this wasn’t the time, nor the place for that. This was about teaching Sam how to do a non-sexual submissive drop, it was about guiding Dean down as deeply as possible and even more so, it was about treating that awful constipation. Unfortunately, that meant ignoring both his and Dean’s sexual desires. And anyway, Dean’s body wasn't nearly ready for that yet.

So instead, he pulled his fingers away completely. Much to Dean's displeasure. He might feel the desire to be entered, but right now, even fingers would likely be too painful, maybe even damaging to him. No, Castiel told himself, be patient, make sure it's done right. 

He moved his fingers downwards, but this time only to inspect his rim, pleased to see that it was nicely pink and healthy, Benny had done an excellent job, as always. 

"Two more minutes," Sam provided, looking down at the timer and a bit tense on Dean's behalf. 

Cas nodded and smiled across at Sam, who although a little pale, was holding himself together admirably. It couldn't be easy watching your brother suffer, even when you knew that it was all this for his own good. Sam as a beta didn't really understand Dean’s psychological needs, but he was willing to learn and to trust that Castiel was doing the right thing.

Castiel had to give him credit, he may have been slow at noticing Dean's true level of sickness and distress, but he was quickly adapting to take on his new responsibilities. 

"You're doing great!" Sam encouraged, sounding every part the nervous younger brother. 

Dean didn't respond except to huff out a breath indignantly. 

The timer rang out and startled Dean slightly, "It's alright," Benny’s voice was warm with affection, "We're just going to ease you up a moment and then you can release," 

He was already pushing down on the foot pedal that rotated the chair into a slightly more upright position. Still keeping Dean's legs held in a wide apart and open position, but at this angle, he was held directly above the basin that Benny had slid out from underneath. 

"Ok," Castiel directed Dean's attention back to him, "I'm going to remove your plug now. Don't worry if you can't keep it in while I do that, we're all wearing gloves and the basin is directly underneath you. Just let it go."

Expelling had always been the hardest part for Dean. In the past, he'd always insisted that Castiel leave the room while he'd evacuated. However, this time he had no other option but to release the liquid while they all watched. Cas knew this would truth test his ability to maintain a submissive headspace, he was definitely going to struggle. 

Unfortunately, it looked like was coming back up, Castiel tried not to feel disappointed. They had been expecting this after all. 

“Nnnnghhghnn nuuottttt hhhn,” Dean cried out, unintelligible sounds escaping around the gag. 

It was clear that he was angry and definitely fighting his way back up. The embarrassment and social discomfort he was experiencing, destabilizing his ability to maintain his obedience and submission.

He struggled against the straps and growled up at them, shaking his head back and forth, his garbled voice now making begging, pleading sounds. Asking Cas not to make him do this,  _ not this! _

"I'm sorry, I know...,” Castiel knew he had to hold firm, “We need to monitor the process fully and that means you'll be releasing right here. There is a basin directly below you and I will flush it immediately after you have finished. There is nothing to be ashamed about. Just let it all go and relax back down, submit to it.”

Dean shook his head again fiercely, another angry unintelligible growl. 

“Do you need help to go back down?" Cas made sure the warning was clear in his tone. 

Dean shook his head, his expression anguished. 

But his body language said something completely different. He was actively seeking Cas's contact, shaking with the effort and the stress. He desperately wanted to drop back down, but he couldn’t. Dean’s heartbeat started racing and his blood pressure sky-rocketing, Cas knew he needed to act. And Dean was already so open to it, so clearly wanting it, that even the slightest hint of dominance would have him slipping back down into submission and obedience. 

But, Cas had naively hoped that he wouldn’t have to do this again, that Dean might be able to maintain it on his own. But it was obvious now that he couldn’t, and he was clearly suffering. 

"Alright Sweetheart, I’ll help you," he comforted and with just the barest amount of dominant push, Cas sent him back, "You will not fight this. Go. Back. Down."

It calmed and soothed Dean almost immediately. His heart falling back into regularity, his muscles unclenching. He’s kept a firm hold on the ball in his hand the entire time, Castiel had checked. And he was pleased to see Dean so beautifully responsive. Yes, it was a struggle, but he was doing so well. 

As a reward he pushed his fingers back into Dean's mouth, letting him resume lapping at them contentedly for a little while. 

"Very good. Calm and relaxed. Let it all go," 

Cas reluctantly pulled his fingers back out of Dean’s mouth. They had at least three more enemas to go before they could release him, so they needed him to maintain the drop as long as he could. And it would only get harder for him, the longer this took. 

So he reached back to the plug and opened the balloons release valve and let the air out. The plug really was very small, but it still took quite a bit of gentle manipulation to ease it free of his body. Eventually it popped free with only a moment’s resistance, followed quickly by the first gush of water. 

Thankfully, now that he was calm and focused on obedience, Dean readily expelled the liquid and other matter held inside him. The only indication that he was uncomfortable was his slightly panting breath and clammy skin. It was such a small amount that it didn’t take long for the rest of the liquid to make its way out. 

Once finished, Cas immediately flushed it away. 

"So good for me," he lent forward, between Dean's spread legs, to place a gentle kiss of the sensitive skin of each of Dean's inner thighs, "Well done," 

Dean lay back and was quiet as Benny pushed the basin back underneath and returned the chair to its previous position. It was almost as if he was falling asleep, his muscles lax and slow now they were no longer tensed with discomfort and spasm. 

Benny caught Cas's gaze and shared a sad, knowing look. They both regretted having to continue with the next one, but there was nothing for it, this wasn't nearly finished. 

Benny tossed the first plug and tube away to be sanitised later and retrieved the next one. He opened the package and held it up to check the tube had no kinks and inflated correctly, before nodding and handing it to Castiel for insertion. 

This one was slightly larger than the last, not a lot, but Cas was sure that Dean would notice the difference. He was so oversensitive and tight, that each slight increase would be felt keenly. Unfortunately, that was part of the treatments and he would just have to accept that each plug, tube, catheter, dilation device, etc, would be larger than the last. 

However, to his surprise, Dean didn't protest the insertion of the next plug. Only whispering slightly as the inflation began again.

"You're taking this so well. Only two more after this one," Cas informed him, hoping that the information might help him cope better with it. Cas hoped that letting Dean know there was an endpoint ahead might even help him stay down. 

  
  


Castiel was constantly trying to work out better ways to help Dean achieve and maintain his headspace. He knew he was being selfish, making Dean fight so hard to stay down when all it took was a couple of words from him and the battle would be won. But he really, really didn’t want to have to drop Dean again involuntarily for a third time today. Not again. 

He would do it, if he absolutely had to, but he was desperately holding out hope that this time Dean might be able to drop voluntarily. Because the problem, and what kept Cas up at night with worry, was that not once had Dean ever managed a full drop on his own. Not ever. 

Not with him. Not with his Father, or Sam, or anyone else for that matter. Not even alone. Dean wasn’t even sure that he ever had. The possibility that utterly terrified Castiel most was that maybe he just wasn’t able to let himself fall, not fully anyway, that his brain just wasn’t capable of it. That he would always need to be forced to go down. 

Cas knew that he tried. But every time he attempted to go down, he fought a battle with himself both for and against it, effectively slicing wounds into already damaged flesh. It was just so painful to watch him try and fail, and try, and fail, try, again and again. He was so sick of watching Dean lose! Sick of watching him come back up gasping and ashamed, exhausted and humiliated. 

Submission was meant to be a release, a joy. It was meant to be easy. Not this constant battle that he could never win. It broke his heart that the only good drops Dean ever achieved were because he was forced down. Cas knew he should be thankful that Dean was able to achieve a full drop at all. Grateful that he was susceptible to involuntary drops and partial drops. But instead he just felt angry. Angry that Dean couldn’t even have this one thing. This one escape, one comfort that every other sub got to experience so easily. It really seemed like Dean had to fight for everything. 

Everything was a struggle for him, his body constantly in pain and gradually shutting down. His mind, a battlefield. And the worst part was that every time Castiel forcefully overwhelmed his mind, took his power away and took his choices away. He saw it as a gift, as a release from the struggle. 

Every time Cas forced him down, he was grateful afterwards. Dean thanked him.


End file.
